Reversing The Calling
by Celestial Chaos
Summary: What if there was a way to remove the taint? What if you could avoid an early death? And what if that decision could tear you apart from the people you call your family? Would it be worth it? Would you risk everything? Alistair/M!Amell.
1. The Hero of Ferelden

**_Author's Notes:_ Oh, man, it's good to be back!!! After a year of being away from writing for the public, I've come back, and with a Dragon Age fic to boot! I'm completely new to the fandom (just got the game about a month ago) and have loved it ever since. But I won't fanboy for too long. It's just refreshing to have a new fandom to write in.**

**This story takes place after the archdemon's defeat and is predominantly about the friendship-turn-relationship between Alistair and male!Amell (human mage), but will also focus on something that intrigued me: using blood magic to try and remove the taint's _Calling _aspect. After reading something about one of Duncan's contemporaries possibly being free of it, I wanted to fiddle with the idea.**

**A few quick notes: Despite the way the story may portray it, I am by no means a Morrigan hater! Actually, I chose to portray Amell as having a poor relationship with her solely because I've used her in both my playthroughs. Also, Shale is not a member of the team. But that doesn't mean we won't be seeing her later on down the line.**

**Please let me know what you think! I love feedback from people. :)**

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Thayer Amell was the new hero of Ferelden.

So why didn't it _feel_ like it yet?

The day after the archdemon's defeat had gone by in a blur: Anora's honoring speech, the crowd of Fereldans, the feast, the never-ending conversations over drinks…

He lay in his temporary bedroom at Arl Eamon's Estate, thoughts of the future swirling around in his head. What would he do now that the Blight was over? He hadn't the slightest idea. Just over a year ago he had passed his Harrowing—the most important thing in his life. Now, he had gone through more than most did in a lifetime, things that made the Harrowing seem like cherry pie.

Maybe he would travel. He'd lived under the Circle's watch for the majority of his life and had never left Ferelden. The possibilities were endless. Perhaps he would go to Orlais? Antiva? He remembered the many times Leliana had regaled him with stories of Orlais and its beauty, as well as the glances into Antivan society he had gained from Zevran.

Thoughts of his companions made Thayer's mind wander to Morrigan. Agreeing to her ritual had seemed positively outrageous at first, but he'd mostly justified it to himself. He told no one of his actions, of course, only sharing that Morrigan had left and that he didn't plan on following her.

Thayer hoped it was the right decision. He was alive, and as selfish as it sounded, he was glad for that.

Still, a child with the spirit of an Old God…what a strange thought.

He didn't fall asleep until sometime after midnight. Some hours later the rising sun poured in through the window across from his bed, basking him in bright warmth. He stirred, and for a brief moment forgot where he was. This didn't feel like the cold dirt of his tent…

Thayer blinked several times, rubbing at his bleary eyes. His dark brown hair was matted to the left side of his face and his mouth was cotton-dry. He'd not slept well, but he rarely ever did nowadays. As things grew more coherent, he remembered where he was: Arl Eamon's Estate in Denerim.

He supposed if he wanted to he could try sleeping in. There was no longer an urgency to get up and go. The Blight was gone and the archdemon, defeated. If anybody deserved an extra repose, it was he. Still, having grown accustomed to getting up with the sun this last year or so, it was hard to simply roll over and fall back to sleep. Thayer tried, but after about ten minutes of tossing and turning he finally decided to get up and face the day.

Thayer took his time getting ready, bathing and then dressing in a set of comfortable, lightweight robes. He slipped on his shoes by the fireplace where Brutus, his Mabari hound, was sleeping. Oh, to be a dog, Thayer thought. Brutus had seen plenty of battles, and yet he snored away like no tomorrow. He lost no sleep over the lives he'd taken, or the choices he made.

Just as he was about to exit his room he heard footsteps outside it. A knock on the door followed.

"Who is it?" Thayer called.

"It's Alistair. Just checking to see if you're up."

Thayer moved to the door and pulled it open, smiling at his friend standing on the other side. Seeing Alistair dressed in normal clothes as opposed to armor would take some getting used to. "Couldn't sleep in either, could you?"

"Mm, tried, but to no avail. The prospect of breakfast is just too enticing." Alistair smirked. "You coming?"

Thayer nodded. "I'll be there in a minute."

"There'll be food for Brutus, too, so you should wake him up and bring him along. I daresay he'd be upset if he missed out…"

"If I can wake him up. See you down there soon."

The mage watched Alistair walk down the hall, eyes lingering longer than he'd intended. He thought he'd broken the habit but apparently not. Try though he might, squashing the feelings he held for the Champion was nigh impossible. It was a never-ending battle that he'd been fighting ever since Ostagar, where they'd first met.

Thayer had experienced both crushes and lust before. Hell, he'd even been involved in a few romantic encounters with other apprentices. The Circle mages did not discourage such acts, so long as they didn't lead to marriage or progeny. Thankfully, Thayer didn't have to worry about that.

Well, except for Morrigan. But that was a case the Circle didn't know about, and would likely never.

He retreated into his room, reminding himself yet again that it would do him no good to dwell on things he couldn't have. What he felt for Alistair was not fleeting, but now was neither the time nor the place to think about it. Really, there never was.

After rousing Brutus and straightening his hair in the mirror, Thayer wandered out into the expansive corridor, heading for the mess hall.

Alistair, Zevran, Leliana, Oghren, Wynne, Arl Eamon and several other guests were all seated around the long, ornately decorated table that rested in the middle of the mess hall. The air was ripe with delectable scents, and Thayer's stomach growled in anticipation. He took his seat between Alistair and Wynne, sending a greeting around the table to all those present.

Two usual faces were missing: Morrigan and Sten. The first he'd expected; the second, not so much.

"Where's Sten?" he asked.

"He is nowhere to be found," Zevran explained. "When I woke up this morning, his bed was empty and all of his equipment gone. My guess? He's gone back to his homeland."

"He had briefly mentioned returning at the ceremony yesterday," Wynne stated. She stirred some eggs around on her plate.

"I remember speaking with him about it, but I didn't think he meant to leave so soon." Thayer pursed his lips. He and Sten weren't particularly close, but they had fought a few battles together, namely those at Redcliffe before Arl Eamon had recovered. He thought that would at least warrant a proper goodbye.

"The Qunari are strange," Alistair said. "Sten is no exception. He probably wanted to avoid goodbyes."

"Eh, good riddance," Oghren grunted. He took a heavy swig of his pewter stein. "He was a pill. So was that witch, Morrigan. M'glad she's gone."

There was a murmuring consensus around the table, though more for Morrigan's departure than for Sten's. Nobody had liked her, or had grown close to her. In truth, her abilities were the only reason why Thayer hadn't asked her to leave. Her understanding and manipulation of entropy and shape shifting complemented his primal, elemental abilities, as well as Wynne's creative and spiritual magic. All three had learned from each other and strengthened one another's skills. The knowledge he gained was well worth dealing with her abrasive personality.

Arl Eamon cleared his throat and raised his goblet. "I would like you all to know that you're welcome to stay as long as you need. As defenders of Denerim, you've earned your place." He turned toward Thayer. "So, have you given any thought as to what you plan to do now that you've defeated the Blight?"

Thayer nodded. Queen Anora had asked him the same question yesterday, which had prompted his thoughts from the night before. "I think I may travel. I've never been outside of Ferelden, and both Leliana and Zevran have piqued my interests with their tales of Orlais and Antiva."

Zevran swallowed roughly. He appeared surprised. "You aren't seriously thinking of going to Antiva, are you?"

Thayer laughed. "Probably not. The Crows probably want me dead, after all. But Orlais…"

He glanced down the table at Leliana, who had a distant look in her eyes. She had mentioned wanting to go back since having dealt with Marjolaine, the reason for her leaving in the first place.

"Now, Orlais I can handle…" Zevran tapped his chin. "Beautiful women, beautiful men, wonderful food, good quality boots…my kind of place."

"And we could meet up with the Grey Wardens if we went there," Alistair commented.

"We?" Thayer looked to his left at his friend.

"You don't seriously think I'd let you go to Orlais by yourself, do you?" Alistair snorted. "I mean, I know you're the hero of Ferelden and all and can handle yourself, but there's a lot of opportunity for us there to help rebuild the Grey Wardens. I'd be mad not to go with you." He paused to chew on some bread. "You don't mind, right?"

"Of course not," the mage replied. He swallowed.

Part of him thought that traveling _away_ from Alistair would help him move on from the feelings he harbored, so inviting him along seemed counterproductive. But he couldn't tell his friend no, not without hurting his feelings. Thayer hated guilt.

Leliana sighed wistfully. "It would be nice to see Orlais again. Especially now that I don't have to worry about Marjolaine and her followers…"

Thayer had planned on traveling alone; exploring the other nations and just enjoying what time he had left. Now he had Alistair, Leliana and Zevran along for the ride. He had mixed feelings about the idea, though for no concrete reason. He was tempted to ask Wynne and Oghren to join them, but he knew both of them had important things to attend to. Wynne especially, as First Enchanter Irving had asked her to take over his position, and she had accepted.

Thayer glanced across the table at Oghren. "Oghren, what are you going to do now that the Blight is over?"

The dwarf stroked his thick, red beard a few times. "Might just continue to wander. Got an offer to join the human forces as a general." He nodded to Arl Eamon. "Sure as hell ain't goin' back to Orzammar. Bhelen would have my head, and if I go into the Deep Roads, I'm gonna try and bring Branka down. Prolly best for me to just stick around here."

That made sense. Thayer remembered talking with Oghren after they found Branka. He couldn't imagine how seeing her must have felt, especially when she had cast him aside in favor of the Anvil of the Void. To love someone and then watch them fall from grace and drown in madness…he didn't know how Oghren handled it.

"Arl Eamon's men will be lucky to have you," Alistair said.

Idle chatter continued throughout breakfast, and one by one each person pulled away from the table for a variety of reasons. In the end it was only Thayer, Alistair and Arl Eamon. Alistair was still eating heartily while Arl Eamon spoke with a servant about cleaning up breakfast.

Thayer had been nursing the same goblet of juice throughout the entire meal. It felt tepid against his lips, but he didn't ask for any more. His mind was lost in thought.

When was he going to go, he wondered? Orlais was considerably far away; travel would take a while even with infrequent stops for rest. They would not only have to cross the Frostback Mountains but also the Dales and the Heartlands. Thayer could only guess as to what they'd come across along the way.

As he stood up and excused himself, so did Alistair. Thayer stepped into the hall with his fellow Grey Warden by his side.

"Listen, can I talk to you?" Alistair asked. He was fidgety, antsy—it made Thayer uneasy.

"Something wrong?"

Alistair glanced from side to side, and Thayer naturally did the same. Nobody was in sight. "I wanted to ask you about…_Morrigan_."

Thayer's heart fell into his stomach. "What about her?"

"I'm not stupid. I know something is up. And I know it had to do with her. Come on, let's go back to my room."

He'd wanted to hear those words for a long time. If only they were under a better pretext.

Thayer followed Alistair up the steps in the main hall and down the corridor that led to their bedrooms. Once they were inside Alistair shut the door behind them, turning to look at his friend.

"Take a seat."

The mage swallowed. Alistair was surely going to ask how he'd survived, and he deserved to know. Still, Thayer wished on some level that they would never have to have this conversation.

He sat in the large armchair by the fireplace, not even feigning innocence. He was already caught, so to speak. "So, go ahead."

Alistair paced back and forth for a moment in front of the fireplace before he looked at Thayer. He scratched the side of his head. "You should've died."

"Well, that's nice of you to say." Thayer frowned. "That wishful thinking, or…?"

"No, no. You know what I mean." Alistair waved his hand dismissively. "With the taint and all that. What Riordan told us? You dealt the final blow to the Archdemon, and it will kill you. But it didn't."

The way he paused was clearly a sign for Thayer to fill in with the 'how'. Something held his tongue. He realized it was fear. What would Alistair say when he found out what he had done in order to save his own life?

"Well?"

"Well, what? You're the one who wants to know. Ask your question, Alistair."

Alistair, clearly baffled by his friend's frankness, folded his arms over his chest. "I saw Morrigan go into your room the night before the battle. She didn't come out for a while. I know you two weren't having a heart-to-heart, because I know you didn't get along very well. What were you doing?"

This was it, Thayer thought. The question had been posed, and he could either lie through his teeth or be honest.

"Morrigan and I had sex," Thayer said simply.

"W-What? You two had what? Wait."

"You heard me correctly. We had sex."

Alistair remained silent for a moment. His expression gradually transformed from surprise to disgust. "_Why_? _Why _would you sleep with her? That's like…I don't even _know_ what that's like!"

"Believe me, it wasn't for recreational purposes."

"Then _why?_" Alistair pressed.

Thayer sighed. "Because…she proposed an alternative to death."

"What, did she say that by having sex with her the archdemon wouldn't want your spirit?"

"No, no, nothing like that." Thayer shook his head.

"Then what?"

"She…performed a ritual to conceive a child that would attract the archdemon's essence."

Alistair looked confused, and with good reason. "Conceiving a child when you have the taint is almost impossible. But that aside, why would you do that to a child? Won't it—"

"No. Morrigan assured me that the child won't be evil. But it will bear the taint."

Suddenly Thayer felt guilty—guilty for condemning a child to a life of only thirty years; of condemning a child to life without any knowledge of its father; to a life with a mother who would do Maker knew what with its talents.

He ran a hand down his face.

"Thayer, why would you—" Alistair didn't finish his sentence. He just shook his head. "So this child will, what, have the essence of the archdemon inside of it?"

"Not the archdemon—an old god." Thayer finally stared up at Alistair for more than a second or two. He remembered one more thing she told him. "This is assuming the child survives."

Alistair laughed. At first Thayer couldn't believe it, but he quickly registered it as incredulity.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

"It's for the best, Alistair." Thayer stood, staring his friend in the eyes. He didn't like the way Alistair was looking at him—like he didn't know him. He spoke quietly. "You know I wouldn't have done it if it weren't. Had I not, you'd be all alone right now. I didn't want you to bear the burden alone. Leliana, Oghren, Zevran, Wynne…none of them understand what you and I have gone through as Wardens."

"…Yeah, you're right. I couldn't imagine the Grey Wardens without you, let alone trying to rebuild them." The warrior sighed heavily. Thayer could tell he was weighing the situation. "Well," he finally said, rubbing his eyes, "I just wanted to know for sure. Now that I do, I'm not sure what we should tell the other Wardens."

"The truth?" Thayer joked. Alistair's glare made him cringe. "Okay, maybe not. We could tell them I was spared for some…reason or another."

"Part of me wishes we could lie and say Riordan killed the archdemon, but word will spread and people will know of your exploits soon enough." He paused. "We don't want to get on the wrong side of the Orlesian Wardens."

"We've got time to figure it out. I don't plan on leaving right away. Plus, the Orlesian Wardens are likely in no hurry to meet up with us…"

"You've got a point."

"Was that all?"

Alistair fell silent again. The corners of his mouth curled into a smile, and he gripped Thayer's shoulder firmly.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you're still here. Things wouldn't be the same without my brother Warden."

Thayer smiled, enjoying the warmth that came from Alistair's words while it lasted.

It wouldn't be long before it was replaced with cold, repressed longing.

. . . . .

Thayer lay in bed that night thinking about the Grey Wardens.

He and Alistair truly were the last of the Ferelden order. Upon their shoulders lay the burden of rebuilding the group. But in order to do that they would first need to learn how to perform the Joining. Alistair readily admitted that he had no idea, having only participated before. And Thayer…well, he hadn't the faintest clue, either.

It was probably for the best that they were traveling to Orlais together. Should something happen to either of them, then at least there would be another who could rebuild the order.

Thayer wrinkled up his nose and rolled over atop his bed. Now came all of the questions: when would be best to leave? Who all would be coming along? How would they get there safely? What would they need to take?

This would an adventure, just like his trek around Ferelden invoking the Grey Warden treaties with the elves and dwarves. Only this time, the darkspawn were at bay in the Deep Roads with no archdemon to guide them. And Thayer would know—the taint in his blood gave him no prophetic dreams.

The darkspawn taint.

If only he'd known before what he knew now….

Most times, Thayer had been far too distracted with other goings on to really think about it. But now that the Blight was over, he was faced with his inevitable mortality. He had thirty years, give or take, before he would experience what Alistair had described as '_the Calling_'—an inexplicable drawing to the Deep Roads to battle darkspawn until his death. Living life with that kind of morbid end wasn't appealing to him, particularly since he was a mage who'd just now begun to experience the world outside of the Circle.

There had to be some way around the limited time…some way to extend the lifespan beyond the Calling.

_Nonsense_, Thayer's rational side protested. _If there were, the Grey Wardens would have found it by now. There would be no need to them to even talk about the Calling if they could avoid it._

He hated being told there was no way. It felt as if others were trying to box him in. Maybe it was just in his personality, but Thayer Amell had never been content with accepting things just the way they were. He always had to try his hand at them.

There was something they were missing. He was sure of it.

Thayer slowly drifted off to sleep with that thought in mind.


	2. Mentor, Mentee

**Author's Notes: Wow! I already have several people following my story. :D I'll take this as a very good sign. No reviews, though, everyone!? Do I have to beg with cookies? :P **

**This chapter's a little shorter than what I usually do (which is often around 4000 words a chapter) but that's because the ending scene just felt...right. I didn't want to start a new scene and then have it end at an odd point. At any rate, the ball is rolling! I'm gonna try and get done a chapter a week--that's my goal. I'm ahead of the game with this, but like I said, short chapter. **

**Anyway, here we go! **

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"Did you know that you snore while you sleep?"

"I wonder which is worse: you telling me that I snore, or admitting that you listen to me snoring."

Alistair's cheeks turned slightly pink. "I don't _listen_, I just hear it from next to my tent. You should really see someone about that."

Thayer stared at his friend, uncertain, but then let it go. As he returned his gaze to the fire, he thought about the task that lay in front of them.

He and the others had set up camp inside the Brecilian Forest. They hadn't reached the Dalish camp by the end of the night as planned, and instead of risking further travel they'd decided to call it a day. He and Alistair were the only ones awake, as was often the case. Thayer preferred it this way—it gave them time alone together.

"Think we'll get the elves to help?" Thayer asked as he poked the fire with a nearby fallen branch.

Alistair leaned back, propping himself up with his hands behind him, palming the ground. "They have to. That's what the treaty says. If they don't…well, maybe you can do a dance for them and then they will?"

Thayer glanced back at Alistair. His eyes quickly traveled the length of the other man's body before settling on his face. He couldn't help but chuckle. "Your sense of humor is going to get you killed one day. I can see it now: Morrigan lights you aflame for making another corny joke."

"Here's hoping you'll come to my rescue with your ice magic. Oh, my hero!" Alistair brought a hand to his chest and pretended to faint. When he sat back up again, he was laughing.

Moments like these were nice. The immense pressure that came with gathering an army to fight the Blight was unbearable at times, but spending time alone with Alistair gave Thayer the relief he needed. It surprised him how far a little bantering could go.

He watched Alistair stare into the fire for what felt like ages. When Alistair looked in his direction, he averted his gaze.

"Were you staring at me?"

Thayer shook his head, denying with ease despite the surprised jolt through his heart. "N-No, no, just beyond you. Brutus was…doing something."

"It's okay, you know."

"What?"

"That you were looking at me. I mean, I've noticed it before."

Something felt odd here. Thayer couldn't quite place his finger on it. He

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow at Alistair.

"Once, when we were at Ostagar. Another time in Denerim. And, well…now."

Alistair shifted on the dirt, making his way toward Thayer. The mage felt his pulse quicken; he willed himself to calm down. Something still felt _off_. Why did he feel like he'd been here before?

"Alistair, did you get into Oghren's tent?" Thayer asked, leaning away slightly.

"No. I…Thayer, can we talk?"

Thayer felt a tug just behind his bellybutton. It became hard for him to focus—everything grew blurry, and his concentration waned.

Alistair's words echoed in his head: "I've never quite known how to say this…"

He said, "Say what?" but the words came out as if underwater.

Everything blurred together, and the last thing he remembered was a quiet muttering of words.

He awoke with a start.

It was another frustrating dream.

Thayer rubbed his eyes, glancing around him. He was still in Arl Eamon's estate, and from the looks of it, dawn hadn't yet broken outside. Moonlight poured into his room, casting a pale glow over everything inside.

He hated dreams like that. Over the course of his fight against the Blight he'd had more than a few, and they were always the same: him and Alistair alone, by the fire, talking about something or another, when Alistair made a move on him that sent his mind reeling.

"Maker," he muttered.

. . . . .

"We should probably go to Orlais as soon as possible."

Thayer picked at his meal, not paying much attention to the conversation around him.

"Hey, you. You with us?"

He hadn't been able to fall back to sleep after his dream. Instead of dwelling on it, he thought ahead to his personal quest. Meeting with other Grey Wardens meant access to texts that would probably help him in his search for reversing the Calling. Or that was what he hoped.

"Oy. Are you deaf, or what?"

Should he tell Alistair, he wondered? Alistair had more or less accepted his timed death, but would he be helpful in the search? There was bound to be some other Grey Warden who either felt or _had _felt the same way Thayer did. He couldn't just accept that his life had been cut so short, especially when he'd done so much to help society.

A sudden pain seized his rib. "Ow!"

"Oh, _now_ he responds."

Thayer looked to his left at Alistair. He saw the fork in the other Warden's hand. Had he just stabbed him?

"What was that for?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for Maker only knows how long. Are you lost in dream land?"

"Sorry, I was just…thinking."

Thayer chanced glances at the other people sitting around the breakfast table. All of them were looking at him now, which embarrassed him. Had he been _that_ lost in thought?

"What were you saying?" he asked before Alistair could inquire further about his silence.

"I was saying, we'd best get to Orlais as soon as possible. The quicker we rebuild the Grey Wardens here, the better chance we have of defending against future Blights."

Alistair had a point. It was in their best interest to leave immediately, as the sooner they arrived the better chance they had of quickly learning about the Joining.

The Joining…

He wondered if he could put people through that, knowing what risks came with it. No matter his feelings, he supposed he didn't have much choice. Being a Grey Warden bound him to the task.

"Well?" Alistair asked.

Thayer said, "I say we gather our supplies, figure out who's going for sure, and then set out in the morning."

"You can count me in," Zevran said from across the table. He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "You'll need a handsome rogue to round out your party. Besides, like I said yesterday…Orlais is my kind of place."

Zevran's flirtatious nature never ceased to amuse Thayer. Though he didn't find it attractive, he did find it endearing. He looked to Leliana. "You wanted to come too, right?"

"Oh, yes!" Leliana replied with excitement. "I cannot wait to go back to Orlais…I wonder if my shoes are still on hold…!"

Thayer knew Wynne and Oghren would be sitting out due to their future engagements. Had Morrigan and Sten been there, he would have asked them, too. Not having them present was odd; he'd become so used to their input from time to time that their absence unbalanced things.

In the end this meant it would just be him, Alistair, Leliana and Zevran. A much smaller group than anticipated.

"Huh," he said aloud.

"It will be strange," Wynne said beside him. She smiled at him, as if she had read his thoughts.

"Are you two having another one of your telepathic moments?" Alistair asked. "You know, it's not fair to not share with the group."

Thayer snorted. "I was just thinking how I'll be the only mage in the group. Should be interesting."

"Ah. Well, okay. So it's settled, then." Alistair cleared his throat, looking around the table. "Today we gather supplies, go to sleep early and then in the morning we set out for Orlais."

. . . . .

Thayer stood on one of the balconies of Arl Eamon's estate, staring down at the Denerim marketplace. In the pit of his stomach stirred a sense of anticipation mixed with mild apprehension.

He'd never left Ferelden before. Tomorrow he would be leaving with the certainty that he wouldn't return for quite some time.

When he took the time to think about it, Thayer Amell hadn't really known much of Ferelden until this past year. Before, he had lived most of his life in the Circle. Any time before his arrival to the tower was in bits of random memories, none of which were particularly positive. Still, he'd seen plenty in his time fighting the Blight, and he'd grown attached.

He supposed everyone felt this way at some point when faced with leaving his or her homeland…

A cool breeze whisked through, providing a brief reprieve from the balmy summer air. Thayer was about to head in when he felt someone appear behind him. He turned to see who it was.

To his surprise, it was Wynne. She had a strange knack of knowing the perfect time to show up. Maybe Alistair was right—maybe she _was_ telepathic. He chuckled at the thought.

"Enjoying some peace and quiet before you leave?" Wynne asked.

"Something like that."

"All ready to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose." Thayer leaned upon the rim surrounding the balcony, taking a moment to think it over. "It'll be strange, though, not having you, Morrigan, Sten and Oghren along for the trip."

"Whatever happened to Morrigan?" There was something about how Wynne asked her question—that airy, almost nonchalant way—that made Thayer hesitate.

"I don't know," he offered honestly. "She left after the final battle. I haven't seen her since."

"Did she tell you why she simply left? I mean, I understand that the two of you were never very close. However, she pledged loyalty to you. I would think that stood for something, even for someone like her."

Now talk was tricky. Thayer didn't like lying to Wynne—it felt like he was lying to his mother, or some equivalent. He looked up to her, trusted her…lying to her would be as bad as a slap to the face. But he didn't want to hear the inevitable backlash that would come from his choices.

He pursed his lips.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," Wynne said with a soft smile. She folded her arms over her chest, tilting her face toward the cool breeze. When she turned to look at him she had that stern, yet understanding expression on her face.

"This has to do with why you're alive, doesn't it?"

Thayer laughed. Her shrewdness became her. "Never one to beat around the bush, are you?"

"Something's been bothering you since the battle. I could tell. I was waiting for you to talk to me, but since you didn't, I thought I'd save you the effort of seeking me out. What kind of mentor would I be if I didn't inquire?"

Was that a smirk on her face?

"She and I…performed a ritual," Thayer began.

"Mm-hmm."

"Morrigan suggested we do it as a means of preventing the death of whichever Warden killed the archdemon."

"What did the ritual require?"

"That we lay together. The ritual would produce a child—a child to whom the archdemon would be drawn, rather than to Alistair or me."

Wynne's silence and hard-to-read gaze made Thayer uneasy. He was expecting her to chastise him for his decisions, tell him that he had condemned the life of a child.

To his surprise, she nodded her head. "Though what you did was ultimately selfish, I think the benefits of your survival outweigh the negatives of whatever may befall that child…you and Alistair alone carry a heavy burden. Had either one of you died, that burden would have lay solely upon the shoulders of the other. You two are in a league of your own as Grey Wardens. Try though we might, none of us can do what the two of you can. You alone can defeat any future archdemons."

Something in there had been reassuring, but Thayer didn't feel any better. Mostly he felt uncertain and uncomfortable. It was disheartening, knowing that despite having defeated one archdemon, there would be more.

"Did I do the right thing?" he asked.

"It is not my place to decide," Wynne said. "It is your conscience that matters in the end…whether or not you can sleep soundly with the decision you made."

Thayer remained quiet. Wynne was right, as she often was. Wise beyond her years.

"For what it is worth," she began, moving in and placing a hand on Thayer's shoulder, "I'm sorry I can't join you on your quest. But I know you will be just fine."

"It won't be the same without you, Wynne."

Her smile was melancholy and appreciative all at the same time.


	3. The Frostback Mountains

**Author's Notes: I'm back! I'm back! And with apologies! I sort of fell off the face of the earth for a while, there. But, in my defense, I've been working more than I have in years, and my muse as a side effect kind of took a vacation. Plus, I played through Awakening, which answered a lot of questions I had and, of course, stirred many, many more. So, here's hoping that I can continue on with this story without having that long of a break again. Thank you everyone who's reviewed/read/enjoyed the story thus far. This chapter is for you!**

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Thayer rummaged through his bag to make sure he had everything he needed for the trip. He could only carry so much, so every spot counted. One section held books, and another, lyrium potions. In the very front were small vials full of different extracts for any salves, balms or poultices he might need to make.

Upon his bed lay several other items he wanted to take along but didn't have the room for. In the middle lay a stone statuette of a warrior. Thayer couldn't remember where he'd gotten it, or why he'd kept it. Something told him it was a nice keepsake. Maybe someone had given it to him as a gift?

He picked it up, fingertips stroking lightly over its rough and aged surface. He turned and went to set it on a nearby hutch. Outside the partially open door he heard footsteps. Alistair had been going back and forth down the hall all morning talking with Arl Eamon, making sure they had everything in order. It must have been him.

"Alistair!" Thayer called.

The footfall reached the end of the hall before coming back toward his room. Alistair's face appeared in the crack.

"Yeees?"

Thayer gestured to the statuette. "Do you think Arl Eamon would mind if I left this here?"

Alistair's eyes darted around to the other items on the hutch before finally settling on the statuette. Thayer almost laughed at the way his eyes widened.

"You weren't seriously going to leave that here, were you?" He grabbed the statuette, staring at it in admiration. "Where did you get this?"

"I—I don't remember." Thayer scratched his head. "Why are you so—"

"Do you mind if I keep this?" Alistair asked suddenly.

"N-No…go right ahead." He was tempted to say ask about his curiosity with it but he never knew what made Alistair tick. He was clearly smitten with the statue.

Leave it to him to like something so simple, Thayer thought, smiling.

"Really? Wow…thanks! I'll take it with me in my bag." At first it seemed like that was the end of it, but then Alistair added, "These are good luck, you know."

"Oh really?"

"Supposed to bring victory to warriors who carry them into battle." He pocketed it, grinning from ear to ear. "Haven't ever seen one for mages, but…I supposed I could share my good luck with you."

Thayer chuckled. "You're so kind. I'll just have to stick close to you in battle."

"Ah, I wouldn't mind that. Never bad for a mage to have your back." Alistair nudged Thayer's shoulder. "You all packed and ready to go?"

"Almost. There's some stuff here on the bed that I don't have room for. Do you have any extra room in your sack?"

Alistair walked over to the bed. He looked through the pile of things—books, notes, jewelry—and shook his head. "No room for the books…the notes would probably be torn to pieces with my things. And jewelry, well! You should give that to Leliana. She'd like it more than me."

Thayer snorted. "I figured we could sell if it we needed money."

"Oh. Oh, right."

Was that a bit of pink in Alistair's cheeks?

The warrior cleared his throat. "Right. Well. I need to finish packing. I've been back and forth all morning with Eamon."

"Meet you in the dining hall, then. We'll leave in about an hour."

. . . . .

"Is everyone ready to go?"

Thayer, Alistair, Leliana and Zevran all stood in the dining hall with Arl Eamon in front of them. Several servants were tidying up from breakfast.

"We're ready," Thayer told the arl.

"Can anyone think of anything we may have forgotten?" Alistair asked the group. "We've got clothes, food, poultices, weapons, armor…"

"Mm, I think by now we've all got what we need," Zevran said. He ran a hand through his long hair and chuckled. "I daresay we've been through this before."

"There is one more thing you'll need on your journey," Eamon said. He turned to a servant, who disappeared, returning a moment later with a rolled up map. The servant handed it to Thayer. "This map will guide you along your way. I would suggest making your destination Val Royeaux. There is a significant amount of Grey Wardens stationed there."

"This is very true," Leliana said. "I recall seeing many in my time there."

"Well, let's hope that they can get us set on the right track," Alistair said. "All we really need from them is the proper way to perform the Joining. The rest I think we could do by ourselves."

Thayer listened to his companions speak, but his mind was elsewhere. Val Royeaux was the capital of Orlais and would certainly have literature on the Calling. He hoped to find what he was looking for, but wondered how he would do it with all of his companions along. Alistair would insist on learning about the Joining first…

He shook his head to get rid of the thought. He had plenty of time to worry about it.

"Let's not forget that this is also just a trip for pleasure," Thayer said lightly. "We've just defeated the Blight and deserve a break."

"Right." Alistair nodded, as if he'd thought that way all along. "We're just going to make sure we get the necessary tools for the future, too."

An awkward silence filled the room. Thayer had experienced several of these before—almost every time he and his companions left somewhere after helping out. He still wasn't used to them.

Thankfully, Zevran was.

"I suppose this is the point where we say our goodbyes."

"Stay safe," Arl Eamon said. "Travel north through the Dales, along the coastline. The terrain of the south is inhospitable and there are few settlements."

"Thank you, Arl Eamon," Thayer said. "We appreciate your kindness. Have a safe trip back to Redcliffe."

"We'll send note upon our arrival," Alistair offered. "And we'll stop in Redcliffe on our way back."

"Don't forget to stop by the Circle Tower, too."

Wynne appeared in the entryway, shifting her bag over her shoulder. She smiled.

"I expect a full debriefing upon your return."

Thayer laughed. "Yes, Wynne, you can count on it. That reminds me, where's Oghren?"

A voice came from the kitchens. "I'm comin', I'm comin'." Oghren stepped through the swinging door, a roll of bread in one hand and a goblet in another. "I wasn't done with breakfast. They took it away before I could finish. So, takin' off?"

"Yes. We'll see you in Redcliffe, right?"

"'Course you will," Oghren replied.

"Well, then I guess we're all set."

"Good-bye!" Leliana said to the arl. "Thank you for letting us stay here."

"It was my pleasure." Eamon smiled kindly. "Now, as I said, be safe. I look forward to your letters."

After saying their goodbyes, the four companions set off for Orlais.

. . . . .

It never ceased to amaze Thayer that, no matter what the season elsewhere in Ferelden, the Frostback Mountains always made it feel as if it were winter. Though there was no snow coming from the grey, cloudy sky above them, a fresh, powdery blanket covered the path along which he and his companions walked.

Thayer and the others hadn't seen hide nor tail of any civilization for quite some time. They had passed Orzammar some time early that afternoon; they were on day four of their journey and had so far not accomplished much. But Thayer supposed that was expected, seeing as they hadn't even crossed into Orlesian territory yet.

"It's absolutely freezing," Leliana muttered, rubbing her arms vigorously with her hands. Her shivering was causing her light armor to clatter.

"Perhaps we should have stopped in Orzammar for the night." Zevran had a steely expression upon his face as he withstood the cold.

Thayer had to admit that it had gotten awfully cold awfully fast. He hadn't any clue as to what time it was, but he was growing tired from all of their walking. Dealing with the freezing temperatures in just a set of robes, too, was wearing down on him.

"According to the map there should be a valley not too far from here," Alistair mentioned. He brought the map close to his face and then nodded. "Yes, see, right here. We can stay in the crook and hopefully the cold winds will pass over us."

"Do you think it would be a good idea to stop in the mountains?" Leliana asked, concerned. "I mean, I have heard tales of the Avvar and their tribes. We don't want to trespass on their lands and cross them."

"Don't they settle further south?" Alistair said.

"Their settlements are always changing," Leliana explained. "The stories say that nothing for them is permanent, that everything remains in a state of temporary flux."

"That's unnerving," Zevran murmured. He cringed. "I would rather deal with them, however, than this unbearable cold. Let's stop soon."

All three of Thayer's companions turned to him for a definitive answer. He had grown used to this, and he nodded. "They're no darkspawn, so if they do feel the need to attack, at least we can communicate with them beforehand. Hopefully." He knew little of the Avvar—only what had been in the library at the Circle. And even that had been minimal.

They set out for the valley on the map, which took them longer to reach than anticipated. By their arrival all four were shivering and shaking from the intense cold that grew sharper as night fell. The grey sky above them darkened, appearing much like a storm cloud. White snow surrounded them on all sides.

_Not for long_, Thayer thought to himself.

"Let's set up camp over here by the cluster of trees," he said, retrieving his staff. "But first…"

As with all mages, Thayer carried his staff with him wherever he went. His he called the Oak Branch, and he had obtained it from the Great Oak in the Brecilian Forest. Though he'd come across many other staves in his journey against the Blight, this particular staff resonated with a sensation that put Thayer at ease. He couldn't describe it; he supposed warriors felt this way about their blades.

He focused his energy on creating a flaming arc that quickly cleared the snow from their chosen area in a perfect circle. Beneath it lay clumps of dead grass and dirt, now mildly singed from the flames he'd created. He then heated up the melted snow with more fire magic, watching as it turned to steam that dissipated in the cold wintry air.

The ground was a bit of a mess but at least it was clear. After an approving nod, Thayer took down out his collapsible tent and set up camp with Alistair, Leliana and Zevran following suit. By the end of the set up Thayer wished he'd taken up Morrigan on her offer to teach him the art of shape shifting so he could become a bear and withstand this agonizing cold.

He conjured a fire that the four of them sat around, which helped warm them up, but didn't quite solve the problem of the chilly winds.

"S-So how f-far do you th-think Orzamm-mar is from h-here?" Alistair asked, despite being close enough to the fire to singe his eyebrows off.

"Far enough," Zevran said. "We should not travel back through the Frostbacks during the night. It's not safe."

"I think we should stay in our tents until mid-morning or early afternoon." Thayer rubbed his hands together, trying to keep sharp focus on the flames so that they didn't burst out of control. "It will be as cold in the morning as it is now."

"Perhaps we should have stopped by the Wonders of Thedas to buy some enchanted items to protect us from this cold!" Leliana wrapped her Chantry robes tighter around herself. "I remember seeing some kind of ring…"

Thayer blinked. He looked at his friend. "Leliana. Do you have that jewelry I gave you to carry?"

The bard appeared confused for a moment. "What? The jewelry? Yes, I do, it's—"

"Can I see your bag?"

She furrowed her eyebrows. "I suppose, if you must." She reached beside her and picked up her bag, carefully tossing it to her left toward Thayer. "It's in the side pocket."

Thayer rummaged through the pocket in question until he pulled out a single band. Its smooth black surface looked frosted over, but he knew better. It held strong magic. "Aha!"

"Aha wh-what?" Alistair grumbled. "Has the c-cold g-gotten to you?"

"It's an enchanted ring!" Thayer said. "I've had it ever since…wow, has it been that long?"

"Since when?"

"Since my Harrowing."

That was a surprise. How he'd managed to keep something like this for so long was beyond him. He had been severely strapped for money after leaving the Tower with Duncan, and he could have sworn he'd sold it. But apparently, he hadn't.

"Will it get rid of the cold?" Leliana inquired. "Do you have more than one?"

"I don't," Thayer said. "But we can take turns using it. I should be fine, since I can just make—"

His focus had shifted far too much. As Thayer spoke, the fire shrunk rapidly before them. All three of his companions shouted in protest, so he closed his eyes and focused, willing the flames to grow back.

"I suggest a game of cards to see who gets the ring." Zevran pulled out a deck of cards from beneath his blanket. A Cheshire grin broke out on his face. "Shall we say…for the night?"

. . . . .

It was needless to say that Zevran won the ring.

Thayer hadn't even really fought it. Alistair had tried, and failed. Leliana had given the elf a run for his money, but not even she could beat his tactics. In the end it was he who slept soundly, as not even Thayer could keep the chill from creeping into his small tent. When he awoke that morning his feet and hands felt numb, and his entire body ached. He'd slept curled up in a ball the entire night, which made for an agonizing stretch in the morning.

Thayer often slept later than his friends, and today was no different. By the time he emerged from his tent all three of his companions were sitting around a crackling fire. Alistair looked worse for wear, but Leliana seemed fine. And, of course, as did Zevran. It wasn't until Thayer stumbled toward the fire that he caught the glimmering band around Leliana's finger.

He pointed at it. "Did you—"

"I threatened to sing all day if Zevran didn't give it to me," Leliana said with a wink. She looked at the elf. "I should have done that last night."

Alistair was pouting. Thayer sat across from him and chuckled. "Why so down?"

"Brute force and killer charm is all I have going for me…and neither seems particularly effective against him." Alistair gestured to Zevran, who wore a smirk.

"I'm sorry, Alistair. I'm far more afraid of her voice than your muscles." His smirk turned lascivious. "If anything, your muscles do something _much_ different to me. Much more positive."

"Oh, you _flatterer_." Alistair rolled his eyes.

"Mm, if you two have finished," Thayer began, "we need to start thinking about when we'll be setting off again." He had to stifle a chuckle. He knew Zevran didn't much care for Alistair, but that didn't seem to stop him from teasing him from time to time. It was all in good fun.

Alistair said, "I think it would be best to leave as soon as possible. We want to use as much of the daylight as we can. If we hurry, we might make it to…oh, what's the name of that town? Leliana, hand me the map. That's it—Halamshiral."

"I've never been," Thayer said, looking immediately to Leliana.

"I haven't, either," she confessed. "But I have heard tales. Halamshiral is not a very large, but it's rumoured to be one of the friendliest places in all of Orlais."

"As long as there's an inn with warm beds, they can be as cold as Morrigan for all I care. I hate sleeping in a tent." Alistair moved to stand, retrieving the supplies bag from his tent. He extended it to Thayer. "Now, let's eat. I'm starving."

Breakfast went by uneventfully. Afterward Thayer, Alistair, Leliana and Zevran prepared themselves for the day, taking down their tents and packing up their bags. The entire sky maintained its cloudy white color from the day before. It melded with the snowy plains that surrounded them, making it difficult to ascertain which direction they needed to go.

Thayer led the group along a winding path they had decided upon after seeing a wooden signpost ushering them in its direction. They shared random conversation about nothing in particular up until the point where the path before them forked. One continued to the right, up higher into the mountain, while the one to the left curved down toward its foot. They were high up enough to see signs of a city in the far distance, just beyond a dense forest.

"How long have we been traveling?" Thayer asked.

"As overcast as it is, I can't tell. But I would imagine it's been at least a few hours. My feet are aching." Leliana bent over and gently massaged her calves. "Walking through snow for this long is horrid."

"Better than walking through freezing puddles," Thayer said with a grin. "Otherwise, I'd have melted the snow."

"Ha ha. Very funny." Leliana frowned, but said no more.

"That must be Halamshiral off the horizon, just beyond that forest," Alistair said, sounding eager. "We'll reach it by nightfall, I'm sure."

Snow blanketed the entire hillside down which they traveled. The path upon which they walked was slightly raised above the rest of the sloping hill to the right, which helped keep them from falling down it. Still, their travels weren't without some trouble. Toward the end of the hill Thayer mistook a step, tripping over his robes and sending him face first into the freshly fallen snow before him.

"Oof!"

The snow, though not wet, was rather cold. Thayer could feel it despite the numbness in his cheeks and nose. He lay there for a moment, the laughter from his companions muffled by the powdery dust surrounding him. He stuck out his hands and started to get up but stopped when he felt a pair of hands gripping his shoulders. It was Alistair.

"You've really got to learn to walk in those robes," he said, looking amused.

Thayer grumbled, but felt appreciative nonetheless that Alistair had helped him up. He brushed off the snow from his robes, already feeling some of the flakes warming on him and clinging to the fabric of his clothes. He could look forward to a cold, of that he was sure.

_How embarrassing_, he thought.

"Let's go," he muttered.

The end of the hill was the official end of the Frostback Mountains. The further away they traveled the lighter the snow became, until the dull, wintry grass became completely visible beneath their feet. The land was nearly flat in every which direction which, after having gone through the mountains, was a welcomed reprieve. They could see everything surrounding them, giving them the edge in the event that they were attacked.

"It's almost barren here," Leliana commented curiously. "I was expecting at least a traveler or two along the road. This is strange."

"It's the end of winter," Zevran said. He snorted. "I imagine most people are saving their travel through the Frostbacks for when the snow is not quite as heavy."

The two continued to talk as Thayer led the group to the entrance of the forest. Compared to the relatively silent plains from which they had come, the natural cacophony of birds, rustling trees and other animals was pleasant. That also meant, however, that they needed to be on guard. There was every possibility they would be attacked by a wayward wolf or bear. As it was, they got through the forest without incident, much to their surprise.

In their journey the sun had begun to set. The cold day was growing colder, threatening the same discomfort as the night before. This gave them all the extra energy needed to move faster so they could reach the outskirts of the town.

They were greeted by the warm smell of spice and baked goods. One of the last houses before the gates had a plate of pastries cooling in the windowsill. A sign hung from the entryway that said "WELLMAN'S PASTRIES".

Thayer licked his lips. He was dying for a warm meal that he hadn't cooked himself. Dessert didn't seem quite appropriate, but maybe the man or woman inside knew where to find the inn. He and his companions stepped into the charming old log house where the smell amplified. His stomach gave a jerk.

"Excuse me," he said, moving close to the counter.

Behind the wooden partition was an older woman. Her long blond hair was tied loosely over her shoulders, streaked with several strands of grey. She had kind brown eyes and a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. The front of her apron was covered in flour, as were her hands.

"Yes?"

Thayer smiled. "We're traveling through and wondered if you happened to know of an inn here in Halamshiral. Could you help us?"

"Oh, certainly. You'll want to head just a bit further into the town. You'll come to a circular pathway a ways down from here that leads you to the other parts of Halamshiral. Go down the path to the right. That's where the inn is. It's the biggest building there. You can't miss it."

"Thank you," Leliana said. With a smile, she added, "It smells absolutely wonderful in here. Do you bake all of these yourself?"

"Mm-hmm," the kindly woman said. Her eyes sparkled with interest as she moved to the display case. "I don't have too much to offer right now, seeing as all fruits are out of season…but you won't find better pastries anywhere else. Would you like some?"

Thayer was about to reply when Alistair said with excitement, "Of course!"

They left the pastry store some half-hour later, each toting a small box with pastries inside. The woman—Audrey—had offered them each a free pastry if they promised to stop by again on their way back to pick some up for their trip. After sampling some of what she had to offer, they all agreed without hesitation.

Now, to find the inn.


	4. Val Royeaux

**Author's Notes: **And it's back! With a decent update in a decent period of time! Once I started writing, the bug crawled under my skin...and here is the next chapter. :D I'm hoping to see some momentum soon with reviews, because a lot of people are adding it to their favorite story/story alert lists. Like all writers, I live for reviews...tell me what y'all are thinking, where you presume things to be going, any suggestions you might have to help me write better, etc. This is my first story in some time, so I'm a little rusty. Haha! Just some other things to note:

1. My beta reader was partially confused when I used Ferelden and Fereldan, so just in case anyone is unclear, Ferelden is the nation and Fereldan is the adjectival form.

2. I've not yet read any of the Dragon Age novels, so the interpretation of Val Royeaux (and just about everything else aside from Ferelden) is my own. I try to avoid blatant over-description so you can also maintain your own vision.

3. Bit by bit you'll discover pieces of information such as who Thayer sided with in the main quests of DA:O, and at some point he will be going to Amaranthine to rebuild the order. So just keep that in mind. ;)

At any rate, I like to leave comments back to my reviewers in my notes, so here are ones for all that have reviewed thus far. :)

phoenixandashes: I know the update is a bit late but here's hoping you're still reading! Hehe. It's coming up fast, and I'm doing editing when I get the chance to put it up and set out for everyone!

Sweet Wisteria: You've read my mind. I can't say much more, but you'll see it eventually. Just keep watching for Avernus' research ;)

DragonAgeFan: Thank you for your kind words! I'm really excited about the story as a whole, and exploring Alistair's green-ness when it comes to sexuality is going to be a lot of fun. He's such an adorable man, I love him so.

Sable-eyed-lily: Haha, I'm hurrying as fast as I can. I run with the muse when I've got it, so here's hoping I get more time to write! :D The idea of Zevran and Alistair with cherries and whipped cream is very enticing. A+!

You all deserve cookies for reading all that! Thanks everybody!

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Thayer stepped out of the bathroom feeling refreshed, relaxed, and above all, _warm_. He let out a content sigh and moved toward his bed. It felt like a beautifully soft cloud—a very comforting alternative to sleeping on the tough ground as he had over the last few days.

He curled up with the pillow, closing his eyes.

"Thayer, you can't honestly be going to sleep now, can you?"

Thayer opened his eyes and turned his head to the right. Beside him on the other bed lay Alistair. For a very brief moment he'd forgotten that they were sharing a room. The inn only had three available, and since he and Alistair had shared a room in the past, they decided to do it once more.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I'm not tired yet," Alistair said. Grinning, he added, "You've got to keep me company. I'm bored."

A typical Alistair reply. Thayer couldn't help but smile. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know. That's your job to decide."

Alistair lay down on his bed, hands behind his head to prop it up. As was typical, his humor was a shield for something more serious lying beneath. He cleared his throat. "Are you nervous about meeting the Orlesian Wardens?"

"I suppose." Thayer, having shifted onto his left side, stared at Alistair across the way. "Are you?"

"Absolutely. Orlais in itself is scary enough. Throwing in foreign Grey Wardens? Well, we might as well expect mockery from the beginning."

Hearing Alistair sound so negative was nothing new. However, it wasn't as if he and Thayer were new recruits. They had been Grey Wardens for a year now. More importantly, they had defeated an Archdemon together. That was something he doubted any of the Grey Wardens in Orlais could say. Just thinking about that filled him with pride.

"I doubt they'll mock us," Thayer said. "How many of them can say they've defeated an Archdemon?"

"Well. You _do _make a good point there." Alistair chuckled. "Always so sensible. What _would_ I do without you?"

"You'd flounder," Thayer said. "Aimlessly."

There were so many things he could have said then—why he'd settled on that, he didn't know. Maybe because it was safe. The truth was, he didn't know what Alistair would do without him. On the same note, he didn't know what he'd do without Alistair. As obnoxious as the other could be at times, Thayer had a hard time imagining life without him. Their paths had become narrowly intertwined over the last year…who knew what would happen if they were pulled apart?

That reminded him of the Landsmeet, and how he'd had that scare before. Arl Eamon had been so adamant about Alistair taking the throne, and that thought had frightened him. As such, he'd voted for Anora to take the throne. In retrospect, Thayer knew it was because he would have lost the best friend he'd ever had. It also would have meant he'd be the only Grey Warden left to rebuild the Fereldan Order.

Had it been a selfish decision? Surely, but not entirely. Thayer had voted in Alistair's best interest, too. He never would have been fully happy as king, and Thayer knew that, more so than anyone else. Arl Eamon, on the other hand, had thought only of Ferelden, of the family Alistair came from. In his eyes, Ferelden having a ruler of royal blood mattered more than Alistair's happiness. That just didn't sit right with the mage.

"You probably would have become king," Thayer added as an afterthought.

Alistair shuddered. "Ugh, don't remind me. I was ready to take the post, but I'm glad I didn't have to. I didn't ask to be Maric's son. I would have been a horrible king. Too green."

"Not horrible," Thayer disagreed. "But you would have needed a lot of guidance. I don't know what Arl Eamon was thinking."

"He just wanted to keep Loghain away from the throne, and with good reason. That bastard didn't deserve to be anywhere near it."

Neither of them brought up his death, or the fact that Alistair had been the one to kill him. Instead they fell silent. Thayer closed his eyes and rolled onto his back, taking in a deep breath. If what Anora had said on behalf of herself was true, then she was the best person for the position. Ferelden deserved someone who knew what they were doing, who had experience.

"Well, you're here now, pursuing life as a Grey Warden. Couldn't be much better, right?"

Alistair turned his head to look at Thayer. He smiled. "You read my mind. Endless riches and a castle built for a king don't have anything on living in a tent, eating charred rabbit and freezing to death."

Thayer laughed. He glanced at Alistair. "Are you mocking my cooking skills?"

"If the shoe fits…"

"Watch it, Alistair, or you'll end up with bald." Thayer pointed at his friend, focusing carefully to create a mini flame at the tip of his index finger.

Alistair's eyes widened. He touched his hair. "You wouldn't."

Thayer smirked. "Watch me."

. . . . .

"Did you really need to buy that many sweets?"

"Why is everyone harassing me about it? She was a sweet old lady, and she had lovely pastries. I like pastries. She needed the money, can't you tell? I was being altruistic."

"Mm. If you say so."

Alistair's cheeks were bright pink. Thayer knew to drop it there, even though Zevran and Leliana both wore an amused expression. In reality, Alistair hadn't bought that many—no more than the other three combined. But that was also a quantity just for him, far more than any other one had. And therein lay the amusement.

"Oh, sod off," Alistair said, taking a rough bite of an almond croissant before shoving it into his little white carrying box. "If you eat all yours, don't come running to me, any of you."

Thayer and his companions left Halamshiral early in the afternoon after having done some light shopping. A few exchanges with what they had on hand resulted in their successful acquisition of three more enchanted bands to help them stave off the cold—as well as get their delicious pastries.

"The next town on the way is Lydes," Leliana explained as they walked along the much better marked road.

"Oh, Lydes…I've heard wonderful things about that town." Zevran's eyes lit up. "Whore houses disguised as book stores, deceptively strong drinks and plenty of other exciting things."

"You're forgetting the pitiful thieves and murderers," Leliana said. "All the more reason for us to avoid it."

"You know, really, for a bard, you're not much fun."

"After all we've been through, I think we can all agree that we'd like a break from killing. Right?" She looked to Thayer and Alistair, who held up their hands. "Oh, honestly. You two are no help. You all can stop if you like, but I'll continue on over the bridge to Val Royeaux."

"Don't talk like that," Alistair said. "We're sticking together. We'll stop in Lydes if we need to, but if not, then we'll just continue across the Waking Sea Bridge to Val Royeaux."

Zevran gave Thayer a look, as if to say '_Come on, don't you want to go?_' Thayer shook his head, however, and Zevran grumbled something under his breath.

"There's plenty of debauchery in Val Royeaux, I assure you," Leliana said. "And believe me, it's _much_ better organized than Lydes. The kinds of whores you see there would make you cry. The ones in Val Royeaux are the ones you go back for, time and time again."

"And you would know, right?" Zevran quipped.

Leliana only smiled.

That cheered their elven companion right up.

. . . . .

Their stay in Lydes was not long—just enough to get something to eat and rest once more before their trip across the Waking Sea Bridge. Traveling by land would have taken them nearly a week, and they all agreed that the less time spent sleeping in a tent, the better. It was precarious, traveling for so long over a body of water, but the bridge was well built. And, Thayer thought, the high traffic of traders across the bridge would help them hitch a ride, shortening their trip even further.

Fortunately, they caught one of those traders just before they left the town. Thayer found a woman preparing her horse-drawn wagon full of what appeared to be crates of food just beside their hostel. After speaking with her and persuading her into letting them ride along, he let his friends know that they now had transportation to help them reach Val Royeaux.

"I could kiss you," Alistair said happily.

_If only_, Thayer thought. He offered a snort. "Well, we have to get on quick, otherwise she'll leave without us. I gave her one of our extra rings."

"So serious already, hm?" Zevran winked. "You've only just met her. And here I thought you would give it to me. After all, I did try to kill you. I thought I meant something to you when you spared my life."

"Mm, yes, you know me," Thayer said. "I just can't get enough of you. I should get the ring back from her _immediately_." After a laugh, he gestured to the nearby wagon. "Come on, let's get going."

Fitting all four of them on the wagon took a bit of work, but once they all boarded, they were off. The ride to the Waking Sea Bridge was full of animated conversation, which, after a while, became Leliana simply telling tales of how extravagant Orlais was and how she couldn't wait to return. By the time they crossed the water the sun was high in the sky, warming everything beneath it. Combined with their enchanted rings the early spring cold bothered them little. In a way Thayer wished he wasn't wearing the ring; the crisp air would have helped him stay awake. The rocking of the wagon was strangely peaceful, lulling him into a light sleep.

Alistair woke him up with a nudge to the shoulder. When his eyes came into focus he found himself unable to recognize any of their surroundings. However, they were on land. That was all that mattered.

"Might we see you again, Abigail?" Leliana asked once she hopped off the wagon.

"You might. I may have product to bring from Val Chevin to Val Royeaux, but there's no guarantee."

"We appreciate your help," Thayer said.

Abigail smiled. "Anything to help Grey Wardens. Let me know if I can be of further assistance next time." She turned to her horse, giving it a firm tap with her heel. "Off we go, then!"

Abigail left them just beyond where the bridge met with land. To the right, just off in the distance, was Val Royeaux. Even from here the soft, almost haunting melody of the Chant could be heard.

Thayer looked at Leliana. Her eyes were half-lidded in a nostalgic gaze. Her body swayed side to side with the chant.

He reached out and tapped her shoulder. "Lead the way. You're the Orlesian expert here." A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, yes, right. Sorry, the Chant always catches my attention. I wasn't lying when I said you can hear it throughout the entire city. It's really very beautiful…"

Thayer, Zevran and Alistair all shared a look as Leliana began to almost dance in front of them, guiding them along the path to the grand Orlesian city of Val Royeaux. Even in the cold winter weather, the first signs of spring had begun popping up along the road. Lush shades of green burst out in patches around them, bringing renewed life to the slumbering open fields. Hints of color returned to the large oak trees scattered about the land. It was really quite beautiful. Thayer looked forward to spring returning—it was his favorite season.

The majestic walls that surrounded Val Royeaux soon doubled in size. By the time the foursome reached one of its many entrances, Thayer was in awe. Denerim felt like nothing in comparison, and that was saying quite a bit.

Two Orlesian men stood guard on either side of the large, arched double doors. Though they were dressed in more refined garb, it was clear that they were designed to keep problematic riffraff from entering the city.

"Gentlemen, what a lovely day, isn't it?" Leliana said cheerfully. Her Orlesian accent thickened to the point that Thayer couldn't discern her words.

_How interesting_, he thought.

"It is, it is," one of the men said. He was dark-skinned and of thin build, with his hair pulled behind his head in a small knot. His accent was just as thick as Leliana's—to the same point of near incomprehension. Thayer looked to his other companions. Alistair seemed as confused as him, but Zevran appeared indifferent. He had been to Orlais before, so it only made sense for him to be somewhat used to it.

The man gestured to the gates. "Are you four visiting the grand city?"

"Yes, we are. It's been a while since I've seen Val Royeaux. My friends are from Ferelden—"

"Not all, my dear," Zevran interrupted.

Leliana pursed her lips. "_Two _of them are from Ferelden and have never been. Val Royeaux has so much to offer I thought it only right to bring them for a visit."

"Well, then," the other man said, turning to the three men, "Welcome to Val Royeaux. We're sure you'll enjoy your stay."

Thayer found the man's kind expression a little unnerving. Perhaps it was because he wasn't expecting kindness. Things between Orlais and Ferelden were still tense at times, at least to his understanding. But it was possible, too, that he was simply being paranoid. That was a weakness of his. He gave the man a once over, taking in his wide smile and stocky frame, wondering if he was the brawn of the team. From the look of it, the first man didn't seem like a force to reckon with.

Then again, he thought, neither did he, but he commanded the elements in ways some people only dreamed of. Snap judgments were one thing the Circle had always taught their students to avoid, yet here was, doing just that…

"Thank you," he said to the men, waiting for them to pull each large door open.

The thick wooden doors seemed to be the barrier that held in all of the bustling life of Val Royeaux. With each creak a new and intriguing sound escaped from within—music, voices, people.

_People_. Thayer couldn't believe the sheer number of individuals bustling around the streets before him. Men, women, elves, humans and more of all ages and sizes, more than he'd seen even at the festival in Denerim after the defeat of the archdemon.

Leliana smiled knowingly. She gripped Thayer's shoulder. "You've not seen the best of it yet, my friend. Come on, let's go. We've got plenty to see."

. . . . .

Leliana had maneuvered them through the crowd in a way only a bard could. Zevran kept up without difficulty, but both Thayer and Alistair bumbled from time to time, knocking into someone here and there along the way. She guided them through a pair of arched doors nestled into a tall stone partition that closed off the residential district from the marketing district. As with the doors at the entrance to Val Royeaux, once closed, the cacophony of sounds grew muffled to near silence.

Thayer didn't realize how much the energy of the marketing district had affected him. He felt his heart beating faster, felt an urge to _move_. Adrenaline coursed through him in waning levels.

"I certainly hope we're finding a place to stay soon," he said.

"You feel it, then?" Leliana asked. She was aglow, light on her feet and gliding over the stone pathway beneath them. "Val Royeaux has an energy unlike any other city I've ever been to. It's almost as if it is alive. It fills your very core."

Zevran snorted. "Go to Antiva, my dear Leliana. If you want to feel a city that is alive, Antiva City is unlike any other."

"Oh, Zevran. Green is not a pretty color on you. Enjoy the city. You know you want to." Leliana shook her head, continuing to lead them deeper into the city.

Thayer remained silent as he followed his friend to wherever she was taking them. He fell behind on occasion, so enthralled as he was by everything around him. He could tell by the designs of the houses that they were in a commoner residential district—the buildings were stacked side by side, running longer than wider, and each featured something distinctive to represent the people living within. Children of all ages ran past them through the streets in droves. Try though he might, Thayer couldn't really remember doing anything similar. He felt a strange longing to follow after them, to just run around and play.

"Get a hold of yourself," he muttered under his breath.

"Ah! We're here!"

After several blocks of housing Leliana finally halted in front of a large, homey building that reminded Thayer of the inns in Denerim. Its familiarity brought him more comfort than he would have thought. Was he already homesick for Ferelden? He hoped not. They'd not even been gone a month.

Leliana stepped through the large oak door that sat just above a couple of steps, with the other three following suit. With the door shut the inn maintained a calm, peaceful feel. Just in front of them was a blond haired man fumbling around behind a desk. He seemed rushed.

"Where is it? Is that it? Oh, yes!"

"Matthieu!" Leliana said cheerfully. She approached the desk and tapped it with her hands. "Matthieu, it's me!"

"Huh? Oh, damn it!"

Matthieu dropped whatever it was he had just found, causing a clatter behind the desk. Leliana's appearance must have spooked him. Thayer was more surprised by the fact that Leliana seemed to know him than anything else.

"Ahhh, _putain_! Where did it go?"

"Matthieu!"

Matthieu finally looked up and saw Leliana. His frustrated expression soon melted into one of joy. He threw his arms up. "Leliana, my beautiful friend! You've returned!"

"Beautiful friend, hm?" Zevran whispered to Thayer. He cocked his eyebrow suggestively.

"Oh, be quiet," Thayer said, but he couldn't help chortling.

"What did you lose, Matthieu? Was it another set of keys? You are so disorganized…"

"No, something else, but it doesn't matter now. It's down there somewhere. What are you doing back here? Are these your friends?"

"Yes, we're visiting Orlais for some time. Have you heard? Ferelden just underwent a Blight threat. Thayer, a great mage from the Circle, defeated the archdemon not but a few weeks ago." Leliana gestured to him, which made Thayer turn pink. He was still not used to people singing his praises, let alone his companions doing it.

Matthieu's expression quickly changed. He stared in awe at Thayer until the mage cleared his throat. "We're here to see the Orlesian Wardens. We need to rebuild the Fereldan Order."

"Oh, there's time for that later!" Matthieu dismissed that thought with a wave of his hand. "This is your first time in Orlais, then, isn't it? You've come to the right place. I've the best inn you'll find in Val Royeaux! Free of charge!"

Alistair gawked. "F-Free of charge? Are you serious?"

"It's the least I can do for friends of a friend and for the champion of Ferelden. If it weren't for you, Grey Warden, the Blight would have only worsened…it would have reached us, and then we'd have had all kinds of problems." Matthieu smiled, and the fine lines around his eyes and mouth crinkled.

Thayer didn't know what to say. "Thank you…this is very kind of you. We're very appreciative."

"Oh, it is no problem." Matthieu clapped his hands together. "Now, let me see what I have available. You are going to love Val Royeaux!"

Leliana and Matthieu continued to converse while Zevran wandered off to explore the inn further—namely the kitchen. He was probably hungry; none of them had eaten for some time. Alistair and Thayer stayed in the foyer, although Thayer felt distracted. Being known as the Hero Champion of Ferelden was still something he'd become accustomed to. Being outside of Ferelden helped alleviate the awe factor, as he called it, but word was spreading fast. When they met with the Orlesian Wardens he had a feeling things would either go very well, or very awkwardly. He still had to explain himself, after all.

He didn't realize Alistair was talking to him until his friend nudged his shoulder.

"Hm, what?"

"Zoned out, are you?" Alistair raised an eyebrow. "I asked if you wanted to room together."

"Oh, yes, yes, sure."

The warrior laughed. "What's on your mind, O, Champion of Ferelden?"

"Nothing," he lied, faking a smile. "Just wondering how we'll pay Matthieu back for his kindness."

"It is really no problem," Matthieu said. "Please, enjoy your stay here. All I ask is that you maintain proper decorum…any suspicious or shady dealings, please, perform them elsewhere." He eyed Leliana for a moment, which intrigued Thayer. He pretended like he didn't see it.

"I'm starving," Alistair announced. "Zevran had the right idea, going to the kitchens. I'm going to follow."

"If only you still had your sweets, hm?" Thayer teased.

The look Alistair gave him almost made Thayer wince.


	5. The Grey Warden Headquarters

**Author's Notes:** Hi everyone! So here's chapter five...a bit longer than the others, but not by much. I just couldn't break up the scenes without making things seem awkward, and that just isn't my style. Well, anymore. Hahaha! Anyway, thanks to all of you for the kind words! It always makes me happy to know people out there are enjoying my stories as much as I enjoy them. There may be some down time between this and my next chapter-these next few weeks are super busy, but I'll write when I get some downtime!

Nithu: Thanks so much. I'm hoping so, too-I've got a long outline of ways to go. :)

Fluid Consciousness: There will be manlove. It's inevitable! Question is, when? ;) And funnily enough, I think this chapter answers your question, if I remember correctly. Suffice to say, yes, Alistair knows. He discovered it around the time Zevran joined the team.

Doxx: Thanks! :)

Nightsfury: Dialogue is one of my favorite things, and Alistair has such good, witty remarks that I wanna write them too. Hehe.

Darth Sayn: Avernus is definitely down the road...I dunno how far ahead for sure, but he's definitely along the way. After all, he's the best person to ask about blood magic! Thanks :)

* * *

Thayer took in a deep breath. He slowly extended his right hand in front of him, palm parallel to the wall. As he moved it in a semi-circle around him, he felt a palpable energy building within. Waving his hand in the other direction caused the energy to disperse, flitting away from his body.

He did this every morning as a means of connecting to the world surrounding him. It was one of the first things taught to him at the Circle of Magi: in order to harness the power within, he would first need to learn how to manipulate that which existed alongside him. It had taken a while to fully comprehend, but now Thayer couldn't imagine _not_ doing it. The exercise had become such an integral part of his daily activities. But lately, he'd been forgetting to do it. There were a multitude of reasons, however it mostly revolved around the fact that he wasn't fighting much anymore. His magical abilities didn't need that extra fine-tuning.

Still, old habits died hard, and he'd begun feeling disconnected and erratic lately. Thus, here he was.

The mage brought his hands together, and as he pulled them apart, a crackling ball of energy began to form. It tingled within his grasp. He was about to dispel it when he heard Alistair stirring in the bed behind him. His concentration broken, the ball dissipated into a wisp of smoke that climbed toward the ceiling.

Doing this indoors always proved much more difficult than outdoors…

Thayer pondered going back to what he was doing. In truth, he probably wouldn't have lost his concentration had he not thought Alistair would wake up. The idea of doing his connection exercise with an audience—particularly someone who didn't understand it—wasn't very appealing. Though Alistair had dabbled with lyrium before in his training at the Chantry, he hadn't been born with the innate ability of magic. He didn't understand its intricacies. Various conversations with him over their time together confirmed that.

Thayer ultimately decided against continuing. It was early, and if he planned right, he could get a bit of extra sleep before Alistair awoke. Without impending disaster looming over his head Alistair seemed to greatly enjoy sleeping in, even until the early afternoon. He'd taken advantage of that several times since the fall of the archdemon. Thayer wished he could. Despite most efforts, his body absolutely refused to stay down after a certain point in the morning. All those years of having a strict schedule had trained him otherwise.

Thayer stood there for a moment and watched Alistair roll around in the bed. He couldn't understand quite how the other managed to tangle himself up in both the sheets and the comforter, but that was just one of the more endearing things about him. It made the occasional outrageously loud snoring much more bearable.

As Thayer moved to his bed Alistair awoke with a start, sitting straight up. For a moment he seemed confused about where he was. Then, as he lay back down, he groaned quietly.

"Have a nightmare?" Thayer asked.

Alistair murmured to himself for a few moments. Finally, louder, he said, "I dreamt that Riordan was waiting here for us."

Riordan. Thayer hadn't thought about him since his death during the battle at Denerim. He'd died heroically, but it still smarted to lose an experienced Grey Warden—especially one that could have helped them rebuild their order. He knew all kinds of things that Thayer and Alistair didn't.

"Oh."

"Yes. Imagine my surprise if he were, hm?" Alistair ran his hand down his face.

"I'm sure word of our arrival has gotten to the Grey Wardens," Thayer stated, wanting to change the subject as gently as he could. "The sooner we go, the better, probably."

The warrior sat up in his bed. Thayer's eyes lingered briefly at the way the sheets shifted around his body. "It's early. Can't we at least have breakfast first? It's never good to go in to a meeting with an empty stomach. Bad luck, you know."

"Bad luck?"

"Oh, very."

"Who says?"

Alistair grinned. "I don't know, but it sounded believable, didn't it? I'm going to stick by it."

Thayer snorted. "Well, get up and get ready, in that case. We'll have breakfast, see what Leliana and Zevran are up to, and then we'll plan to meet with the Wardens as soon as possible."

. . . . .

Thayer wasn't surprised to find neither Leliana nor Zevran in their room when he went to check. Both of them were early risers, and with the vast amount of things to do in the city, they'd probably gone out first thing that morning. He figured Leliana was meeting with old friends, while Zevran was busy making new ones. Or rather, temporary new ones.

That left him and Alistair free to do their day's work. Deep inside, Thayer felt anxious. While Alistair had known the joy of camaraderie with other Grey Wardens, in truth, Thayer had only him. He didn't know what it was going to be like seeing all of these other Wardens. And then there was the issue of his surviving the slaying of the archdemon. The truth was out of the question, which would inevitably stir up suspicion. This would be an ordeal, of that he was sure.

Once he and Alistair were properly dressed and had full stomachs they set out for the Grey Warden headquarters. Luckily for them, it was just a short distance from where they were staying in the residential district. Thayer wasn't surprised to see a wall partition between the residential district and the Grey Warden headquarters—they seemed to be common around Val Royeaux to help keep things separate.

He and Alistair stood outside the entrance, staring at the Griffon insignia carved into the wooden doors before them. Though there were no guards posted at the entrance, the symbol was enough to steer commoners clear. Any passersby walked a good seven or eight feet around them, leaving the path before them clear.

"Ready?" Thayer asked his companion.

"About as ready as ever, I suppose," Alistair replied. He clasped his hand around the large vertical handle, nodding curtly. "Right. Here we go."

The scene before them was nothing like Thayer imagined it. Before them stood a veritable fortress, right in the middle of Val Royeaux. From the looks of it, the building barely fit within the confines of its space. The entrance to the headquarters was about twenty feet ahead of them, with the same majestic insignia carved into its thick wooden doors. On either side stood a guard in full armor, watching and waiting. People milled about the tiny courtyard going Maker only knew where—Thayer couldn't imagine. He was far too mesmerized by the sight in front of him.

From the looks of it, as was Alistair. Neither of them moved. It wasn't until someone approached them that they snapped out of their daze. It was an elven woman with long red hair and milky white skin, clad in a full suit of steel armor.

"Gentlemen, what brings you to the Grey Warden's headquarters?"

"Oh, we, um, we're Grey Wardens, too," Alistair said almost sheepishly. He scratched the back of his head. "From Ferelden."

"From Ferelden?" The woman's green eyes widened. "So _you_ two were the ones who defeated the archdemon?"

"That would be us," Thayer said, smiling despite how nervous he felt. "We came to help rebuild the Fereldan Order…to be taught how to perform the Joining."

"Oh! Well." She seemed flustered, and Thayer figured it had everything to do with what they'd accomplished. She either was in awe of what happened, or surprised he was still alive. "My name is Stella. I have been a Warden for several years now. And you two are?"

"Alistair," Alistair said. "And this is Thayer Amell. He's the one who slayed the archdemon. Our savior and champion."

"Oy," Thayer said, shooting Alistair a quick look.

"Oh, come off it, you know it's true."

Stella smiled. "It is a pleasure to meet the both of you. Please, feel free to explore the courtyard while I retrieve the Commander. She will be pleased to know you are here."

"Thank you," Thayer said, watching Stella for a moment as she headed into the fortress. Afterward, he turned to Alistair.

"That went well," the warrior said, grinning.

"Let's hope meeting the rest of them does, too. How long do you think it'll take her to get the Commander?"

"Not long, I would believe. I—"

Thayer turned toward the entrance of the headquarters where Alistair was looking. To his surprise, Stella was already coming back, and in tow was a taller woman in silverite armor, striding toward them with clear anticipation. Had she expected their arrival?

"Gentlemen, it's a pleasure." The Commander extended her hands in greeting, a genuine smile upon her face. Unlike the others thus far, she had no Orlesian accent to speak of. She sounded almost Fereldan in descent. "I trust you had no trouble finding your way here."

"None at all," Alistair said, nodding in agreement. "We're staying in the district just beside here."

"I see, I see. Well, we've been expecting you. My name is Ilena, and I am the Warden Commander here at Val Royeaux. Please, come join me inside. We were just about to have lunch."

Thayer could have sworn the grin on Alistair's cheeks went from ear to ear.

. . . . .

"So between the two of you, you defeated the archdemon?"

"Well, it was mostly Thayer," Alistair corrected. His cheeks were slightly pink. "He delivered the final blow. But we brought him down together."

"What a feat," Ilena said. "You managed to do in one year what has taken several Grey Wardens years to accomplish. That's very commendable!"

There was a murmur of agreement around the table, but just as Thayer had expected, the dreaded topic of how he'd survived soon followed. It came from a man toward the end of the long dining table. He raised a dark eyebrow inquisitively.

"Shouldn't you…be dead?"

Thayer took a moment to think about his answer before asking. "Technically I should be, but I'm still here somehow. Alistair can vouch for me—he saw me go down. I was out for quite a long time. They did think I'd died."

"Perhaps it is because he is a mage," Stella offered. "The Fade spirits could have taken kindly to him."

"There have been plenty of other mage Wardens," a dwarven Warden said, tone near accusatory. "Probably better ones, even. Why would they save him in particular?" His statement also drew agreement from some of the crowd.

"It's not our place to question why," Ilena stated. Her tone was final, and the hall fell silent. "If Thayer is alive, then there must be a reason why. We have to trust that the reason will present itself in the future. Life works in mysterious ways. Perhaps the Maker has something special in mind for him."

_Or I'm just scared of dying_, Thayer thought with a slight frown.

While Ilena and Stella seemed to be on their side, the vast majority of the other Wardens did not. Thayer could feel their watchful eyes trying to bore into his being, trying to discover whether or not he was hiding something. Having grown up in the Circle, he was used to powerful scrutiny. His superiors could always tell when he was lying, which had prompted him to come up with a convincing game face. He would have to put it into overtime here and now.

He shared a look with Alistair. While the warrior used to wear his emotions on his sleeve, ever since having found his sister in Denerim, he'd become better at keeping them steeled up. Still, Thayer could tell he was upset; he hadn't touched his food for several minutes.

Thayer decided to take the conversation by the reigns and turned to Ilena at the head of the table. "We came here specifically to learn how to perform the Joining. The Blight desecrated the Fereldan Order and we need to create more Grey Wardens to help protect us against any future issues. Our leader, Duncan, he…" Thayer cleared his throat. "He was killed before he could teach us how."

"Duncan was a very respected man." Ilena spoke softly, but with conviction. "It's unfortunate he had to pass, but he died honorably in duty. We can help you learn the ritual. However, it will take some time to get all of the necessary components together. We likely won't have everything prepared until tomorrow. In the meantime, why don't you two explore the fortress further? There's much to offer, including a wonderful library, a smithy and a very extensive apothecary. You are both welcome here, Grey Wardens."

Ilena stared over the crowd. When Thayer did the same, catching sight of the misanthropic stares around the table, part of him felt distinctly _un_welcome.

. . . . .

As Ilena had said, the library was wonderful. Thayer would have used the word magnificent, but he didn't think Alistair was as enamored. His companion had closed himself off and was acting almost like a petulant child, which wasn't unusual, given how lunch had gone. Because of that Thayer had offered to buy them a round of drinks at one of the pubs in the marketing district, to which Alistair readily agreed.

On their way there that evening Thayer couldn't stop thinking about the library. He'd barely touched the surface of it in the hour or so he'd explored. In that vast collection of books just had to be something on the Calling—anything, anything at _all_. He hadn't forgotten his most important reason for coming here, after all. He would figure out a way to live his life to the fullest and to reverse the Calling so that he and Alistair didn't end up fighting to death in the Deep Roads.

He shuddered faintly at the thought.

As the sun disappeared over the tall protective walls surrounding Val Royeaux, Thayer and Alistair slipped into one of the bars on the edge of the marketing district. Thayer had no idea whether it was any good or not, but based on the amount of people going in and out, he figured it couldn't be bad.

"Did you really just take us into a pub named _The Thirsty Boar_?" Alistair asked with a laugh once inside.

"The other ones looked seedy," Thayer reasoned. Alistair stared at him, and he made a face. "Well, I didn't see you leading the way."

Alistair wore a cheeky grin. "You know very well I am a follower, not a leader."

"Well, I'm looking to you to lead us to the server."

"Then you're going to be waiting for a _very_ long time."

Thayer gave Alistair a playful shove between the shoulder blades, urging him toward the opposite end. The pub looked awfully similar to the Gnawed Noble Tavern in Denerim, which gave him a strange sense of comfort. The only difference was the patrons. There were a number of men in the pub, a pair of elves and a few women. A small group of them were on their way out as he and Alistair stepped in.

The two of them sat down at the bar, and before Thayer had a chance to request what was available, Alistair said, "Two spiced meads."

Thayer raised an eyebrow, smiling coyly. "Now you're ordering for me? How romantic. I wasn't aware."

"Oy, I was just—that's not funny," Alistair stammered. He scratched his eyebrow and looked around him.

"Oh, relax. I was just kidding."

Thayer couldn't help but tease Alistair from time to time. Alistair knew that he was a homosexual, but they didn't often talk about it. The topic arose when Zevran joined their team all that time ago. The details were fuzzy for him, but he knew it had had something to do with Zevran's flirting and Thayer's admittance that the attention wasn't unwelcome. He'd never before hidden it, however previous to that moment it had never really come up.

Their drinks arrived, and Thayer took an immediate sip to test what it was Alistair had ordered for him. Steam rose from the frothy mug as he set it back down on the bar. The mead tasted great—just hot enough to warm him from the inside, with a kick from whatever spices were in it. Cinnamon and ginger, maybe. The aftertaste was intriguing.

"So, how's it taste?"

"Not bad. The question is, how many of these do I need before I start to feel drunk?"

Alistair laughed. "If you get drunk, I'm not carrying you back to the inn. I'm a gentleman, but you weigh too much."

Thayer and Alistair sipped at their drinks and talked casually back and forth for a while, eventually falling silent and becoming lost in their own thoughts. Thayer's went to his mission, which seemed much more tangible than it had previously. They would be going back to the Grey Warden headquarters tomorrow to learn about the Joining, and after that would be free to do as they pleased. In truth, he didn't really know what Alistair would do. He had been in almost a hurry to leave earlier, and up until now Thayer had forgotten that fact.

Once he finished with his first drink Thayer felt sufficiently warm, but the sweetness and kick of the spiced mead was good enough for him to order another. He started in on it, and then turned to look at Alistair. He already knew the answer, but he had to ask.

"So what did you think of the Wardens?"

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Certainly a suspicious bunch, aren't they?"

"I think they've just never come across something like my situation before." In fact, he was pretty sure they hadn't. After all, the Grey Warden who slayed the archdemon would always die when taking in their spirit. In this case, it hadn't entered him at all. He didn't realize it then, but now he wondered if maybe that was the cause of their suspicion.

He drank deeply from his mead. It warmed his throat and tickled on the way down. "Do you think maybe they're worried I'm housing an Old God?"

Alistair turned to Thayer, letting out a chuckle. "Thayer. You know that's not possible, you dolt. That's what causes the Grey Warden to fall when they kill the archdemon—the spirit. The human body simply isn't strong enough to withstand it."

"Oh. I knew that, didn't I." Thayer scratched his head, feeling a little dizzy. He looked down at his mug, realizing he was nearly done with his second helping of spiced mead already. How had it gone down so fast? "I'm just a little unfocused."

"You mean, you're a little tipsy," Alistair corrected with a smirk.

"Something like that."

Alistair made a face. "Who knows what their problem is. I don't understand why Stella and Ilena had no issue with us, but the others act as if we're lepers. Maker's breath, we defeated the archdemon! That should stand for something here."

"I doubt any of them even know what dealing with a Blight is truly like," Thayer said as the server placed another mug of warm mead in front of him and Alistair. He watched the other down nearly half of it in one fell swoop. "Whereas us, well, we were thrust right into it and didn't have much of a choice."

"Still, you'd think they'd understand. They're _Wardens_, like us."

Thayer gripped Alistair's shoulder. "Nobody can understand what we've gone through except us. Not even other Grey Wardens. Damn them."

"You're right. Damn the lot of them." Alistair sighed and closed his eyes. After a period of silence he let out a soft laugh. "That's just what I needed to hear. Nobody understands me like you do. What would I do without you?"

"You'll never have to worry; I will _always_ be there for you. You're my best friend."

Thayer leaned in, unable to stop himself. He rested his forehead against Alistair's temple. Alistair's skin was warm, and he smelled of sandalwood. It reminded Thayer of his early days at the Circle Tower, working with roots and spices for his alchemy lessons. Fond memories.

Alistair swayed slightly as Thayer pulled back. He had been leaning into the touch, which intrigued the mage. Rosy pink patches began to appear all over Alistair's face. Whether that was from the mead or embarrassment, Thayer didn't know. All he knew was that the other had apparently had enjoyed it.

He finished the rest of his drink in silence as Alistair stared off at nothing in particular. Once done, he said, "We should get going back to the inn. It's getting late."

Alistair cleared his throat. "Yes, right. Let's."

The walk from the pub back to their inn was quiet. In his usual state, Thayer would have probably worried that what he'd done was out of line. Somewhat inebriated as he was, his only real concern was getting back to his room so he could lie down and rest—he was starting to feel woozy again.

Once back in the inn, Thayer and Alistair went to the second floor, toward their room. Alistair murmured incoherently while Thayer fixated on opening the door. The key needed to be turned just right, and it seemed he was lacking his usual dexterity. He cursed quietly and gave it a quick jerk which seemed to finally do the trick. He waited until his friend was in the room before shutting the door and locking it behind him. A warm fire crackled in the hearth across from their beds, taking the edge off of the cold that permeated from the nearby window.

Thayer moved toward his bed but was suddenly stopped by Alistair's hand on his bicep. He nearly stumbled over, giving a surprised grunt. "What?"

"I…"

"I was just going to slip off my shoes. I'm tired."

"I'm…confused."

The mage blinked. "About what?"

"This. Us." Alistair gestured between them. "I feel…strange."

Hearing that sobered Thayer up right quick. The last thing he'd wanted to do was create discomfort between the two of them, and it seemed that he'd done just that. He crinkled his brow, feeling a tight knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

"How so?" he asked.

"I _know_, Thayer. You must think me absolutely dense." Alistair frowned. "I know about your feelings. Suppose I should say _have known_. But I never gave them much thought. We're friends after all, right? It didn't quite go that far."

_Here it comes_, Thayer told himself. The brush off—the one thing he'd worked so hard to avoid. And over a year later, now here they were. He set his jaw and nodded.

And then Alistair said something that tightened the knot considerably.

"But I think it might."

"What?"

Alistair's grip on his bicep tightened. Neither spoke a word, creating a palpable tension between them. Thayer knew he probably should have pulled away, but something told him to stay. And that something soon came in the form of Alistair's forehead pressed against his. His heart pounded in his chest so hard he felt it in his throat. Why was he so flushed all of the sudden? And there was that sandalwood smell again.

"I trust you with my life. I need you to know that. And…I never thought the person I'd fall for would be a man, let alone one I call my brother, but…"

Thayer closed his eyes. Those words, no matter how badly he'd longed to hear them, couldn't be real. Alistair had drunk a fair amount. He was most certainly under the influence of that flavorful mead.

"Alistair," he began.

"Shh."

Thayer didn't know what to think. He felt a shift, and then Alistair's lips were on his. The kiss was somewhat clumsy, but soft. Strangely perfect in its awkwardness. It warmed him from the inside out, making his body tense and his heart flutter.

Alistair slowly broke the kiss, keeping their faces close together. His grip on Thayer's arm loosened. He breathed a soft chuckle against the mage's lips. It reeked of mead, but that mattered little.

"I can't believe I just did that," he murmured. Thayer could swear he felt Alistair's smile.

"You're drunk, Alistair," Thayer said, trying to control the elation bouncing around inside of him. He had been waiting for this moment for ages, and though it hadn't happened as he'd planned it, that it had happened at all was what mattered. "You should—"

"I know what I am, Thayer, what I'm doing."

Alistair's voice was firm—the way it was while sober. Thayer wanted so badly to believe him.

The warrior moved back, running a hand through his hair. He wore no signs of uncertainty, or of discomfort. Thayer had known Alistair long enough to recognize them. Still, he couldn't be serious.

Finally, a bit of Alistair's true character popped through as he grinned and chuckled.

"I just took a very large risk, Thayer. The least you could do is indulge me. I thought you were my friend?"

Thayer laughed. Only Alistair could put him back at ease that quickly. He stepped toward the other and took his hands in his. "Are you absolutely certain? After all, you're drunk."

"Then I'll sleep on it."

"Mm. All right. In your own bed."

Alistair winked. "Of course. You think I'm ready to wantonly throw myself on you just yet? You obviously don't know me as well as I thought you did."

Thayer smirked. "Good night, Alistair."

"Good night."


	6. The Ritual

**Author's Notes:** I'm so glad to see I've got a following for this story! As much as I write for myself (that was partially why I started this story), I love writing for others. It's really exhilarating to see how excited people get. So, thanks to all of you for reviewing and giving me your feedback. After the last chapter I'm not surprised to see several of you express the same joy I did when Alistair and Thayer _finally_ hit that point. It was a slow build up, but I wanted it that way. :) Also, in this chapter, it's my understanding that there is no EXACT science to the Joining Ritual. Everything expressed herein is my own personal theory based off what I feel regarding the magic, etc.

FluidConsciousness: I really, really wish we could romance them, too. I like Zevran but Alistair would have been such a better pairing-after all that he and the Warden go through, it just makes _sense_!

Oranis: Reviews like yours really make me feel like I'm doing something right. I originally started writing as a means of enjoyment just for myself, but at a few points I started writing because I just couldn't find any good fic for what I was looking for. I'm glad I can help you out in your search :) Believe me, there's plenty more to come!

Nightsfury: You're very welcome. I felt that their friendship would really be the basis for their relationship-sort of like those friends-for-years-turn-lovers types. They've been through hell and back together, so their friendship has got to be the biggest part. They'll explore that as time goes along.

Greyfall: I have to admit, in this specific chapter it's not going to be as BIG as you might expect the morning after to be, but it's something they'll be dealing with as time goes along. And this for sure isn't the last we've seen of the suspicious Wardens, even if they don't make a huge appearance in this particular chapter. ;)

Skyline Stanza: It's really interesting to see your reviews from the very beginning-I like seeing how you respond to each certain situation! You'll see bits and pieces of his decisions when they go back to Ferelden (I have them all laid out in my story to appear at some point), and I, too, really miss Wynne. She'll be back, don't worry! I'm glad I was able to bring back such fond memories for you with their togetherness. It's important to me that they explore all aspects of their relationship. One of the biggest ones now is going to be their sense of touch and togetherness. :)

Please enjoy, everyone!

* * *

"Do we _really_ have to go back?"

"You tell me. Do you know how to perform the Joining?"

Alistair frowned. "No."

"Then yes, we have to go back. And we're going to have to deal with their stares, their whispers, and their gossip."

"Well, sign me up! I'm so excited, I could puke."

Thayer laughed. Alistair was so dramatic at times that he wondered how he hadn't ended up doing performing arts. He definitely had the personality for it.

He stepped close to his friend, setting his hands on his shoulders. "Think positively. It's only one day. After that, well, we're free to do as we please."

"There you go again with that sensibility." Alistair chuckled.

"Speaking of sensibility…" Thayer's fingers curled slightly in the fabric of Alistair's cotton shirt. "How are you feeling?"

Last night was still fresh in his mind. He'd told Alistair to sleep on his feelings, and here they were now in the morning after. Neither had brought it up yet. Thayer was somewhat surprised that he'd gained the courage to say something.

"Mm, in reference to what?" Alistair looked at Thayer's hands, then his face. He feigned innocence. Thayer stared at him. "Oh! Oh, you mean last night. Of _course_."

"Mm-hmm."

Alistair reached up to grip Thayer's wrists. "I slept on it."

"And?"

"Well, it was a big decision, doing what I did."

"You don't say."

"Mm-hmm. And as you know, I've…never been in a real relationship before."

Thayer caught the corners of Alistair's mouth twitching. He was trying hard not to smile, which meant he was either drawing this out for comedic effect, or he was truly elated. Most signs pointed to the former.

"_And_?"

"_And_…I feel rather secure in saying that this is going to be quite the adventure."

Thayer couldn't wait any longer. He smiled and then leaned in to kiss Alistair square on the lips. It surprised the warrior, who at first simply stood there. When he began kissing back, Thayer felt his stomach do a flip. This kind of excitement was something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"This is exhilarating," Alistair said. "It's no wonder Zevran's always in search of it."

"Not _always_…I'd say just about eighty percent of the time."

Alistair, amused, pulled back and turned to look at himself in the full-length mirror next to the fireplace. "I feel strange not wearing my armor to the headquarters. Do you think I should put it on?"

"Unless Val Royeaux is suddenly attacked by darkspawn, I can't imagine you'd absolutely need it."

"They'll probably judge me," he muttered, heading to the trunk at the foot of his bed. "I'm just going to put it on."

"Wait," Thayer said. "You're really that worried about it? That's not the Alistair I know."

"Sure it is. I'm _very_ preoccupied with peoples' opinions of me. Why do you think I spend so much time on my hair?" When he realized what he said, he waved his hand dismissively. "Never mind that. I mean to say, it matters. I don't want them thinking I don't take this seriously enough that I'm not going to wear my equipment."

Thayer folded his arms over his chest and moved close to the other. "Wear what you want. It's your choice. We're not _performing_ a Joining. We're simply learning how to. You worry too much."

"You worry too little."

Alistair frowned, reaching inside his trunk to pull out his armor.

. . . . .

It worried Thayer how upset Alistair had become over the situation with his armor. To him, it didn't seem like such a big deal to not wear it when it wasn't required. He thought it might be a warrior thing. Mages almost exclusively wore robes both in and out of battle given how unrestrictive they were, so maybe he couldn't understand. Armor to a warrior was clearly important.

He tried reassuring Alistair along the way that everything would be fine, but the warrior was indeed preoccupied. The opinion of the other Wardens appeared to be significant to him. He found this interesting, considering last night Alistair had more or less damned their opinions to the void. He was a confusing person sometimes.

They arrived at the Grey Warden headquarters early in the afternoon after having enjoyed breakfast with Leliana and Zevran. They all agreed to meet up for dinner later that evening, which would give Thayer some time to investigate the library further for any possible information it might have on the Calling. He felt worry in the pit of his stomach—would they know what he was looking for when they saw him fishing through the books?

Certainly he couldn't have been the only Grey Warden who wished to rid himself or herself of this shortened lifespan. There had to be something.

Ilena was waiting for them at the entrance gate. She greeted them with a friendly smile.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. We've been waiting for you."

Thayer and Alistair shared a look before following her into the fortress. Unlike the last time, where they had remained more or less in the west wing, Ilena took them to the east. They followed a long stone corridor decorated with hanging portraits and colorful tapestries of Grey Wardens past. Doors appeared along the way here and there, some open and some closed, revealing glimpses into the daily activities of those living within, but it wasn't until the very end of the hallway that Ilena stopped. Before them was a simple wooden door with a thick iron knocker. She pulled the door to give it motion, and within a few seconds it opened itself.

Both men followed Ilena into the small room. Bookshelves lined the entire left wall, while a number of small, rectangular windows dotted the right. Just in front of them was a handsome mahogany desk positioned atop a lush blood-red rug. It was the only piece of furniture in the room aside from the shelves, and was centered right in the middle. Atop it sat a beautifully ornate silver chalice, several small bowls and a mortar and pestle.

"It will just be the three of us for this," Ilena said. "There's a very specific order in which everything must be done, and the less people present, the easier it tends to be. She approached the desk. "Are you two prepared?"

"Yes," they said in unison.

"Come, let me show you." Ilena brought forth the first small ceramic bowl. Inside was a fine, silvery powder. Thayer recognized it immediately.

"Lyrium dust."

"Correct. Lyrium is thought to be the very substance of creation itself, and is an essential ingredient to the Joining. We start by placing a pinch of the Lyrium dust in the chalice. You want about one pinch of dust for each person drinking from the chalice."

Ilena collected a pinch of Lyrium dust. It glimmered and sparkled on her fingertips and all along the way down into the chalice.

"Next is the blood of a willing donor," Ilena said. "They must, of course, not already have the taint, and the blood must match whatever race is consuming it. In this case, it's human blood from my brother, Vahn. The idea is to let the darkspawn's blood mix with the donor's blood. When they come in contact with the lyrium, it creates a type of tainted hybrid blood. When consumed, it blends easier with the recruit's."

Ilena carefully picked up the bowl filled with the scarlet red liquid, tipping it gingerly over the chalice. A quiet crackle and poof of smoke arose from the combination of lyrium and human blood.

"You want an equal amount of donor blood and darkspawn blood," she explained. "This will help keep the tainted blood from overpowering your donor blood. The darkspawn blood must be introduced gradually."

Once she finished pouring in the human blood, she gathered up the last small bowl. Within was the darkspawn blood. It was black as night and thick like tar. From here the smell was unbearable. Thayer knew it all too well. Ilena dropped several blots of darkspawn blood into the chalice at one time, and with each drop the concoction within the chalice sizzled and hissed. By the time she finished the rancid smell filled the room. It was enough to make Thayer a little sick.

"You want to give it a careful stir. I usually do this with the pestle."

She proceeded to show them how to use the pestle, although that part was self-explanatory. Thayer had thought the ritual would be much more complicated than that but in truth he was glad it wasn't. He knew well that powerful ingredients yielded powerful results, especially when there were few. Combining the two most potent tools—blood and lyrium—was sure to produce something incredible.

Once the potion was complete Ilena gestured to the chalice. "Lyrium dust is not hard to find, as we know. It's the other ingredients that are difficult to gather up; the donor blood especially. It is vital that you not use the blood of a Grey Warden, as I said before. Mixing tainted blood with darkspawn blood could produce disastrous results."

Alistair and Thayer both nodded. Alistair said, "That was much simpler than I was expecting. Why do they keep it such a secret? If more Grey Wardens knew how to do it, then we would be so much stronger."

"Becoming a Grey Warden is not a choice to take lightly," Ilena offered. "Grey Warden commanders hold the secret to the Joining ritual for a reason. It would be disastrous if the method got out to the general public. Not everyone survives the Joining. We try to minimize casualties wherever possible."

"No wonder Duncan was so hush hush on it," Alistair murmured to Thayer. To Ilena, he said, "Do you have any tips on how to find the right people for the job? Are there any patterns we could look out for? You know, to help prevent…death?"

"Unfortunately, there's no real way to identify a potential candidate who will survive over one who won't." Ilena sighed. "We've lost several good ones over the years. All you can do is hope."

Hoping didn't feel like enough. Thayer had seen so much unnecessary death over the last year that the last thing he wanted to do was cause more. But what Ilena said reminded him of Duncan and his own Joining. The other two recruits at the time had agreed that they would do whatever it took to join. Becoming a Grey Warden was very prestigious. It also came with a high price…something most didn't know about.

Maybe he and Alistair could tell potential recruits about the dangers _before_ they agreed to the ritual as opposed to after, as Duncan had with him. That would help absolve any guilt, and also help weed out any potentials who weren't truly willing to devote themselves to the cause.

"Thank you for your help," Thayer told Ilena, bowing in kindness. "With any luck, we won't have to worry about a Blight for some time. But with this knowledge, at least we can start to rebuild the Fereldan Order."

"And we have all of Amaranthine to do so," Alistair said. "Well, once they get everything up and running. Anora said it would take a while to get everything transferred over from Howe's family."

Thayer nodded. "When we go back to Ferelden we can ask her about it."

They had the one piece of information they had both come for. Now, Thayer just needed to get the other piece that _he_ had come for…

"Do you mind if we visit the library today?" he asked.

"Not at all," Ilena replied. "There is a lot of history in there that the two of you should investigate. If you're going to rebuild your order in Ferelden, you definitely want to make sure you understand the history. It's unfortunate Duncan never got to explain it to you."

Thayer could have sworn her frown expressed more than simple melancholy. There was a longing in her eyes—he knew that expression well.

Ilena had had feelings for Duncan.

"His death is something that deeply affected us all," Thayer said, somber.

"We still need to erect that monument to him in Highever," Alistair reminded him. "Don't forget."

"Mm. True."

There were many things they needed to do. The monument to Duncan was just one of many. Thayer didn't know how they were supposed to get everything accomplished. He would need to ask Anora for help. Would she invest in something like that? He didn't know her well enough to be sure. Uncertainty bothered him.

"Well, Thayer, Alistair, good luck to you. Remember: you're both welcome here at any time. Grey Wardens of any nation are welcome to stay as needed. Investigate the library, check out the stores, see what there is to offer. Don't let the other Grey Wardens upset you." She looked directly at Alistair after saying that. "Not all of them respect the Maker and his mysterious ways. You're alive for a reason, Thayer. One day, we'll see the new greatness you are meant to accomplish."

Ilena began to take her leave. She stopped at the door, offered a nod of her head, and then she was gone.

Once sure she had disappeared, Thayer turned to Alistair. He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm starting to feel guilty for lying about why I'm still alive. She's been so kind to us."

"Yes, well, I sincerely doubt she would understand if we just suddenly told her you slept with our good friend the frigid bitch just to save your own life."

The way Alistair had said it, with that charming, playful tone of his, mitigated the message's punch. It still smarted a little, however. It had been such a selfish thing to do. But he didn't want to die…

"Let's just go to the library," Thayer said.

"Before we do…" Alistair approached him, gripped Thayer's waist and brought him closer. "Answer me something."

Thayer was intrigued and amused all at the same time. Alistair was being bold. He liked it.

"All right. Ask away."

"Are you as worried as I am about all of this? Rebuilding the order, I mean."

"Yes," Thayer said without hesitation. "It scares me almost as much as fighting the archdemon did. But we did that successfully. I have every confidence that we'll be able to do this, too."

"And that's why _you're_ the Hero of Ferelden." Alistair leaned in to give him a kiss.

. . . . .

With a careful hand, Thayer retrieved yet another book from the Orlesian Wardens' library. It was the last one he was able to carry after setting it atop the large stack of books already clutched to his chest. He'd have handed some off to Alistair, but the warrior had decided to go see what else the fortress had to offer. In truth, the privacy wasn't unwelcome. For what he needed to investigate, a lack of curious eyes would make things go much more smoothly.

Thayer took all of the books over to one of the wooden tables near the wall obscured from view by several large bookshelves. There were only two or three other Wardens in the library for the time being. In a place as large as this, he felt alone. It was blissful.

His search had begun well over an hour ago. He had painstakingly collected ten books in all, with a darkspawn encyclopedia sitting somewhere in the mix. He'd had enough experience firsthand to know each type of darkspawn almost by heart, but it never hurt to have something else to refer to. They, after all, were the connection to the taint. There had to be something about them that was causing the Calling.

He began with a book of the first written account involving Grey Wardens. As he didn't have enough time to read through each individual page, he did his best to skim through the book, stopping wherever a word or sentence caught his attention. There was a mention of the Calling but nothing outside of what he already knew. All Grey Wardens would eventually succumb to it and would be subjected to a heroic death in the Deep Roads.

Thayer put the book aside and went through another. This one, thinner and smaller than the last, had been misleading. Though the title involved Grey Wardens, it was only a passing mention. Nothing of the Calling had come up at all. He found the same problem with the third book. By the fourth book he'd begun getting irritated. There _had_ to be something. In this one, there were theories revolving around the length of time before the Calling grew impossible to ignore. Of course, he already knew that: 30 years. It was almost approximate.

He growled quietly. This wasn't what he'd expected from a library as extensive as the Orlesian Wardens'. How was he supposed to reverse the Calling if he couldn't find _anything _that even talked about the way it worked? He would have even settled for personal recounts of it.

"Wait," he said aloud. He'd grabbed a journal in his way around the library. Where was it? He sorted through his stack of books. Right there in the middle was a small, thin, leather bound journal with the name _Avernus_ sewn into the front with thin black thread. It looked old, and had that musty scent that only came with age.

There were only about a dozen or so entries within. The handwriting was neat, but bunched together. Although he read through the first few lines without difficulty, it took him a minute to catch the date on the top of the entry. He'd just assumed it was from the Blessed Age. Did it really say _Storm Age_? That was two centuries ago. No wonder the journal looked the way it did—it had been around longer than anyone alive today.

Thayer started from the beginning of the entry and read along in his head:

_This journal is primarily for my own recollection of several important events in my research with blood magic. Should anyone be reading it now, chances are that I have been killed and my property repossessed. Given that I am a Grey Warden, it is likely in the possession of the Chantry. If I am lucky, it is in the hands of another Grey Warden. After all, it is only they who would even begin to understand my studies. Only they truly comprehend the pressure under which we live. _

_I have been told by Commander Dryden that King Arland has had enough of our presence and wishes us gone. He feels threatened. The rumor is he is sending an army to take care of us. It will be an interesting sight—he must have __some__ idea what he is up against. I certainly hope he learns his lesson the hard way. _

_My current research involves expanding and manipulating the power of the taint in my blood. Most Grey Wardens seem quite content with simply drinking darkspawn blood and leaving it at that. With the knowledge I have of blood magic, I know there is much more to the taint than that; it has simply been unexplored. In the time I have left before my inevitable downfall I plan to explore whatever means I can to strengthen my power through the taint. _

_For now, I must retire. Tomorrow will be busy._

This was the first intriguing thing Thayer had read since arriving in the library. And to his luck, it had happened relatively quickly. If he stayed here he knew he could read through the entire journal within an hour or so. However, he doubted that his memory would retain it all. The best thing to do with a find like this was to keep it so he could reread it later. But _could_ he keep it? It was small, unexceptional, and probably wouldn't be missed—the perfect thing to snatch. His only concern was that somebody would notice. He looked around him, finding no one.

Thayer took a deep breath. He closed the journal, glanced around him once more, and when he knew the coast was clear, he slipped the small book into the inside breast pocket of his robes. It barely weighed the pocket down, which made it that much easier to hide.

He hadn't stolen in years. The rush was stupidly exhilarating.

Several books remained on the table, just waiting to be read. Right now, however, Thayer was far more intrigued by the journal hiding in his pocket. He began gathering them up, preparing to put them back on the shelf, when he noticed someone approaching him out of the corner of his eye.

It was Alistair. He extended his hands and took several of the books from Thayer's arms.

"My little bookworm. Let me help you."

"Thanks," Thayer said, offering a smile. He found it easier not to hunch over with only four books in his arms. "I'm ready to go for now. It's getting a little late. We still need to change so that we can meet Leliana and Zevran for dinner."

"Mm, yes, I'm starving. The quicker we can get out of here, the better."

"That's two."

Alistair blinked. "Two what?"

"Two 'I'm starving's. I've started counting." Thayer winked.

"Maker, but you're ornery today. I like it. Remind me to get you back for it later."

As Thayer started for the numerous shelves, he gave Alistair a grin. "But of course. Now let's go."


	7. Feastday

**Author's Notes: **Hi all! Things are going to start getting more interesting from here on out, so keep on your toes ;) Some plots are being set into motion, and all kinds of fun stuff. Plus, who doesn't enjoy some Alistair/Amell fluff? I know I do!

Stanza: Avernus is in the future. That's all I'm going to say for now. Thanks for the compliments! They definitely ease the writing process-I don't feel as self-conscious. :P

bart4nat: It's true-you don't see too many! One-shots I like, but I find them a lot harder to do...I'm not as good at fitting all I want to say into just one piece. I always do chaptered stories for that reason. :)

Stone in focus: It gave you butterflies? XD Oh dear. I hope that's a good thing. And you know, I thought about the issues that'd come with them telling. Let's just say that things involving how they rebuild the order is going to cause some waves. With whom, you won't know. But you'll see. :P Get out of my head! Haha!

Don't forget to review :D Please and thank you!

* * *

"I do hope we'll be staying here in Val Royeaux a little bit longer. I made an engagement for tomorrow night that I plan to keep."

"Don't worry, Zevran, I don't plan on leaving just yet." Thayer took a bite of his greens, looking down as he chewed. "We've only been here, what, two days? That wouldn't be much of a vacation, would it?"

"Val Royeaux has so much to offer," Leliana said cheerfully. "I haven't gotten a chance to show you all even half of it."

"I could use some recreation after all we've been through these last few days," Alistair said. He drank from his mug. "And the less we see those Grey Wardens, the better."

"You never did tell me what you did while I was at the library." Thayer looked at the other. "Did you run into anyone else?"

"Yes, and they were just as _welcoming_ as before. Ugh."

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "Trouble with the Wardens, hm?"

"You could say that," Alistair muttered.

Leliana furrowed her brow and looked from Thayer to Alistair. "What happened?"

"They find it very strange that Thayer survived slaying the archdemon. In truth, it _is_ odd, but they're being incredibly disrespectful about it. After all, he _slayed_ the damn thing!"

"No Grey Warden has ever survived, isn't that right?" Zevran stroked his chin. "Their suspicion isn't unfounded. And as Orlesians, they harbor certain feelings against Fereldans, anyway." He plopped a cherry tomato in his mouth.

"Not all Orlesians act in such a way against Fereldans," Leliana retorted. She gave Zevran a mildly disapproving look. "It's unfortunate that the Grey Wardens are treating you so badly."

"It's not exactly _bad_," Thayer said, "they just seem uncomfortable with it. To be honest, I am, too, but there's nothing really I can do. I'm here, and that's the end of it."

He and Alistair stared at each other for a moment. The truth of the matter was they both knew why he was still alive. However, it was a secret that would remain between them, with only one other person in the know. He wondered briefly where Morrigan was, what she was doing…wondered about the baby.

He shook his head.

"So do you have everything you need to complete your ritual?" Leliana inquired.

"Yes. It's deceptively simple, but who knows whether or not we can do it successfully. I'll leave that part to Thayer." Alistair smiled playfully at the mage. "It involves mixing things. I'm just the hack-and-slasher."

Thayer chuckled. "You can recite the chant. That will work." After finishing off what was left on his plate, he leaned back in his chair. "So, what about you two? What will you two do? "

"Not become a Grey Warden," Zevran said immediately. "With all due respect, that is not a life I wish to live. _However_," he said with a smile, "I would be more than willing to accompany you and help you with recruiting. I daresay I've got a good eye for eligible candidates."

"I want to help, too," Leliana said. "I'm not an assassin by any means, but I know a bow better than anyone. Even you, Zevran." She winked.

"No disagreement there," he said. With a challenging smirk he added, "But I'd like to see you kill seven people in five seconds using a bow in the same way I can with a dagger."

Alistair made a face. "Can we not talk about killing people at the dinner table?"

Thayer laughed. "What would Wynne say?"

He took no offense to their refusal to join the Wardens. In truth, it was probably safer that way. After all, there was no risk of them dying in the ritual if they never did it. And even if they weren't Wardens, they could still be of great help in rebuilding the order. Between the two of them there was a vast pool of knowledge in how to kill with stealth and precision—something neither he nor Alistair was particularly adept at doing.

Leliana did her best impression of Wynne, even going so far as to fold her arms over her chest and frown disapprovingly. "Talking about killing at the dinner table is poor manners. Now, Zevran, eat your food."

They all shared a laugh. Things weren't quite the same without their other companions for the trip, but between the four of them, a special camaraderie had formed. They were well balanced in some ways, and complementary in others. One's weaknesses were another's strengths. The only thing Thayer wished for was someone with a stronger grasp of healing magic. His wasn't terrible, but it was far from the natural skill that Wynne had.

"I wonder how she's doing. We'll have to stop at the Circle Tower and see what kind of progress she's made."

"Just another duty to add to the list, right?" Alistair grinned. "You've got how many now?"

"Enough," Thayer said. He snorted. "But first, I'd like to enjoy Val Royeaux a little bit more before we have to get back to work. We were nonstop for a year. We deserve at least one day more of relaxation."

Zevran clapped his hands together. "That's the spirit! Let's get us some more drinks. It is going to be a fun night."

. . . . .

"Good night, you two. We'll see you in the morning! Ow! Zevran, that was my foot…"

Thayer grunted with effort as Alistair tried to guide him into their room. He didn't know why it was such a big deal for Leliana or Zevran to see him with Alistair's hands on him, but he felt strangely modest. Maybe he didn't feel ready to tell them. Maybe he just felt embarrassed.

"Alistair, really, I can get in the room quite fine on my own."

"Yes, well, I just want to have my hands on you. I hope that's not a problem."

Alistair wore a playful smirk as he gently pushed Thayer into their room. It was late, far later than either usually stayed up, and they were still drunk from their rounds downstairs with their companions. The two rogues were more or less in their room when Alistair had begun to nudge him inside, but Thayer still felt that shock of anxiety coursing through his veins.

He realized what his problem was: he was scared they would judge them.

Part of him thought, _How ridiculous of an idea is that?_ And yet, another part of him felt the danger was very real.

The worry faded slightly when Alistair shut the door behind them and brought Thayer close against his body. There had been one or two times in the past where Alistair had done the same thing, but under very different circumstances. He wasn't protecting Thayer from anything now—he simply wanted him near.

"You're very warm," Thayer commented.

"I tend to be like that with alcohol in me," Alistair commented. "The Grand Cleric would be ashamed to see me now. Somehow, that makes it all the better." He leaned in and kissed Thayer's forehead.

"You've always liked a little bit of danger."

"More fun that way."

Thayer wrapped his arms around Alistair's neck and began walking backward toward one of the beds. He ended up tripping over his own foot and fell onto the soft surface with Alistair coming along for the ride. The weight from the blond's body nearly knocked the wind out of him. The mage let out a gasp, then a laugh, closing his eyes.

Alistair shifted to lie beside him.

"I think I'm beginning to enjoy this relationship thing," Alistair said. "It's…indescribable, this feeling of closeness. Just _being_ near you gets me all warm and fuzzy inside."

At first, the mage didn't respond. He simply laid his head beside Alistair's arm, feeling his warm body heat. As he set his hand on the other's hip, Thayer said, "You've no idea how long I've waited for this."

Being drunk was certainly counterproductive to keeping his feelings secret. Thayer didn't regret having said that, but that didn't mean he didn't feel embarrassment. Thankfully for him Alistair chortled.

"It's strange. This progression feels so natural, I wonder why it didn't happen sooner."

"We had a lot to worry about," Thayer explained. "Our personal feelings often took a backseat to everything else. But it matters little now. Here we are, in the moment. Let's enjoy it." He opened his eyes and shifted on the bed so that he could kiss Alistair's ear and neck.

"Oh…well, I could agree to that." He shivered. "My, that tickles…"

. . . . .

Thayer awoke that morning feeling much warmer than usual. As his consciousness began to clear, he realized it was due to the fact that Alistair was wrapped around him. He couldn't much remember what had happened the night before—not just yet, anyway. Instead of worrying about it, he just sighed comfortably and closed his eyes once more, enjoying the sensation.

That is, until Alistair started snoring.

He was able to weather it for a few minutes. Eventually it became too much. Thayer rolled over, nearly falling off the side of the bed in the process. A twin mattress wasn't exactly big enough for two full-grown men. All of his moving around roused Alistair, who buried his face in the pillow and groaned quietly.

"Revered Mother, please let me sleep in a little longer…"

"Revered Mother," Thayer sniggered. Now that he was facing Alistair he reached out and nudged the other's bare chest. "Oy. Wake up. This isn't the Revered Mother."

Alistair's face emerged from the surface of the pillow several moments later. His bleary eyes blinked several times to gain focus. Down the right side of his face ran a red indent mark from the folds of the pillow. He looked lost.

"Thayer?"

"Yes. Welcome to my bed."

"Ooh, how naughty." Alistair cleared his throat and looked around him. He groaned quietly. "My head hurts. I shouldn't have drunk so much last night."

"I don't know that you did. You must just be a lightweight."

"Watch it, or I'll knock you out of the bed with my light weight." Alistair was well aware that in size he had Thayer beat. The mage, though just as tall, was slimmer due to his lack of physical training. When push came to shove it wasn't hard to knock him over.

Alistair leered, but it lost its edge due to his being half awake.

"So I don't really remember how we got into your bed together, but I imagine we behaved ourselves. Only my shirt is off, and that's how I usually sleep."

"I suppose it depends on what you mean by 'behaved ourselves'." Thayer investigated a mark on Alistair's neck he'd just seen a moment before, now with a bit more scrutiny. Sure enough, it was red and patchy. He pointed at the mark. "I don't know if I did."

"What?" Alistair tried to look at where Thayer was pointing but it didn't work; he couldn't stare at his neck. He felt the spot gingerly with his fingertips. "What is it?"

Thayer smiled coyly. "You might get up and look for yourself."

The warrior stumbled up and out of the bed with a comical near-run in with the dresser. He stared at himself in the full-length mirror for a few moments before he realized what it was Thayer had pointed at. His bright eyes went wide, and Alistair let out a yelp.

"Thayer!"

"What?" the mage asked innocently.

"You know what! You know very well what!"

Alistair was acting almost like an embarrassed teenager. Briefly Thayer wondered what the other had been like at that age. Had he always exaggerated this much? It was amusing.

"I can't hide this!" Alistair rubbed the spot over and over, as if trying to wipe it away. When it went nowhere, he let out an exasperated grunt.

"Oh, calm down," Thayer said, sitting up in the bed. "Come here, and I can fix it for you."

"How can you fix this?" Alistair whined. His poking and prodding had increased the redness of the area.

Thayer reached out, took hold of the other's hand once he was close enough and guided him to sit down beside him. Alistair's skin was flushed pink. This had clearly upset him. Still, Thayer couldn't help finding it funny. He'd been through this before, but Alistair hadn't. He needed to have his moment.

"All right, I need you to close your eyes and think with me that the spot doesn't exist, all right?" Alistair nodded. "Okay. Close your eyes and picture the mark gone. Keep thinking about it."

Thayer extended his index and middle fingers, bringing them close together. Closing his eyes, he began to gently stroke the mark as if he were painting over it. With each brush of his fingers the redness disappeared bit by bit until it faded away completely. He opened his eyes and admired his handiwork. Glamouring took a lot of focus; he was surprised he'd done such a good job this early in the morning.

"Now," he began, "this will disappear in a while. Glamours don't really last, and only the best illusionists can maintain them over long periods of time. I don't practice this often so I doubt it will even last through the day, but if it starts to fade, I can redo it."

Alistair couldn't see the mark clearly and so he got up to view it in the mirror. He tentatively touched where it had been, astonishment in his eyes. He turned around to Thayer and smiled. "You can really do a lot, can't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Magically." Alistair stepped close and took a seat on his own bed, reaching down between them to collect his cotton button up shirt. He slipped into it. "I've never really asked you about your spells…only seen them in action. I know you throw a wicked fireball, but this kind of stuff is completely new to me."

"I thought Templars were trained in a little bit of magic," Thayer mused aloud. Then he remembered. "Oh, that's right. You never actually started in with the lyrium, so you didn't get that far."

"Mm-hmm. Part of me is glad, because it means I won't end up like the rest of them. But another part of me will always wonder what kind of things I could have done had I been exposed to it. Nothing as cool as this, though." He grinned.

Thayer felt his cheeks turn pink. He smiled again, looking down for a moment. "None of it really intrigues me anymore. Well, most of it, I guess I should say. Magic I know. It's the world around me I don't."

Admitting that aloud felt strange. He'd always known it to be true, but he'd always avoided verbal confirmation of the fact that he'd lived in the Circle Tower for the majority of his life. Only in this last year had he seen Ferelden and what it had to offer. And even then, he hadn't seen it all. There were still so many things to see, so many places to travel to.

"Well, once we rebuild the order, I promise you we'll go visit other places. Wherever you want to go."

"Really?" Thayer couldn't help sounding eager.

"You have my word, love." Alistair moved to sit beside him on the bed. He cocked his head, seemingly having caught what he said. "Love. I just called you that. Huh. Strange, but it fits, doesn't it?"

The mage nodded. "I like it."

With a smile of his own, Alistair said, "Somehow, I thought you might."

. . . . .

Leliana bounded in front of Thayer and the others. "Come on, we'll be late!"

How the mage had missed out on the fact that the great holiday of Satinalia—better known as Feastday—was today, he hadn't the slightest idea. It was only when Leliana reminded him at breakfast that he recalled. Feastday had never been a big deal in the Circle, as pranks usually ended up with someone getting hurt. However, his first Feastday outside of the tower had been rather enjoyable, and he remembered it well.

According to Leliana, however, one hadn't truly experienced Feastday until they did so in Orlais.

That seemed to be the way she felt most days. Thayer found it strange, considering how she'd fled the country in the first place. But that had been ages ago, and he knew from listening to her talk that she missed it at times. Maybe things _were_ better in Orlais, at least when it came to celebration. Maker knew they were an extravagant culture.

For the first time in ages, the four of them were dressed to impress. Leliana wore a beautiful tapered dress with a mesmerizing pattern of reds, blues and purples. Zevran was done up in embroidered black silk with elegant golden stitching. He wore his hair pulled back completely, which accentuated his high cheekbones and pointed ears. He could easily pass as nobility, had elves such a status. Thayer himself chose a tightly woven cotton robe, dyed a beautiful royal blue.

Of course, his eyes were focused mainly on Alistair. He wore the same outfit he'd donned at the ceremony after the archdemon's defeat: a forest green hand-woven cashmere shirt and a nice pair of finely woven dark cotton pants. Only once or twice had Thayer ever seen Alistair dressed up. He knew the warrior preferred not to in most cases, feeling like he was on show. But for a night like tonight, he had made an exception.

That might have been Thayer's doing…

"So, where are we going tonight?" Alistair asked.

"Everywhere," Leliana replied airily. "Feastday in Val Royeaux feels like a never-ending event. There are booths upon booths of wonderful food, of great presents, of all kinds of things…the night is ours to enjoy!"

As they walked along the busy cobblestone pathway Thayer caught sight of Alistair absentmindedly rubbing the side of his neck. He had glamoured the mark away once more just before they left, but Alistair had been obsessing about it all day. It was funny how the smallest things seemed to get under his skin the worst.

They traveled through the magnificent booths in a group, breaking apart here and there to look at different things within the same small area. Leliana was enchanted by a jeweler who was selling finely crafted necklaces and bracelets, while Zevran rummaged through several sets of shoes sitting on the edge of another booth. Thayer didn't know quite where to begin; the stands surrounding him had everything imaginable.

"Oh!" Alistair nudged him and pointed to a booth right beside Leliana. Thayer followed, surprised to see that the warrior had gotten all excited over…finger puppets.

"Want to start your own one man play?" Thayer teased.

"Ha, ha. Funny. These are adorable."

After they greeted the booth keeper Alistair began looking through what he had to offer. There were finger puppets of all kinds: human, dwarves, elves, animals—and they were all very well crafted, too. He picked up one up and admired the handiwork. The stitching was topnotch, as was the attention to detail. This particular elven puppet must have been Dalish, because it carried a bow and had tattoos along the side of its face.

"How much are these?" Alistair asked eagerly. "Ooh! What about this one?" He held up a puppet clearly decorated as a Grey Warden.

"Three silver apiece," the booth keeper said. "Except for these ones here,"—he gestured to the ones on the far right, which must have been caricatures of nobility, given how they were dressed—"these are ten silver."

"Ten silver. Whew, for finger puppets? Three I can do."

Seeing Alistair get so excited about the finger puppets made Thayer smile. He thought it would be a great way to say he was sorry for what happened earlier with the mark. So, before Alistair could reach for his money, Thayer slipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved three silver. "Here, we'll take the one he has."

Alistair shook his head. "No, Thayer, it's all right, I can get it."

"No, really, let me." Thayer gave the booth keeper the silver, using his other hand to stop Alistair from searching for his own. "It's my treat. Happy Feastday."

The grin on his companion's face was so wide, Thayer thought it might split his face. He couldn't help laughing. Alistair took the puppet and slipped it onto his index finger, giggling excitedly.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. This little guy is going to be _great_."

Thayer gripped Alistair's shoulder, letting his hand linger momentarily before guiding him over to where Zevran was. The assassin had moved on from boots and had found a booth serving fine spirits. Thayer didn't recognize any of the bottles, but Zevran looked like he might burst with joy, so clearly, he did.

"You must be joking. It's impossible to find this nowadays."

"No, my good friend, I am not. That is a fine bottle of rare Antivan brandy. One of the last of its kind, seeing as the—"

"The creator died some time ago. Yes, I am very aware."

Thayer raised an eyebrow and looked at the collection of dark bottles of varying shapes and sizes. The one in Zevran's hand was about the size of an average bottle of wine, and seemed quite ordinary. However, Zevran was clutching on to it like he desperately needed it.

"How much?" he inquired.

"Five sovereigns," the booth keeper replied. He, too, was an elf, and had an Antivan accent. His dark brown hair cascaded around his face to his shoulders. "The price has gone up, but it is still worth every last bit."

"Five sovereigns!" Zevran looked to Thayer and Alistair. "Highway robbery. I'd applaud him if I didn't want this damn brandy so badly."

"What's so special about it?" Alistair asked.

"It's a taste you won't find anywhere else. It hits all the flavors on your tongue, and leaves you with a warm aftereffect. If he had any to sample, I would ask for you to try it. Once you taste it, you'll be hooked forever."

"Antivans," Alistair murmured in amusement.

"My friend, I only have…" Zevran jingled the coins in his pocket, revealing three gold pieces, "three sovereigns. Would you take three?"

"I'm sorry, but it's five or nothing. There are plenty of people who are willing to pay even more, in fact. I'm giving you a steal!"

Thayer felt around inside his breast pocket where he kept his own money. Sure enough, he felt two large coins—sovereigns—in there. It was definitely an extravagant amount of money for just one bottle, but given all that Zevran had done for him, Thayer figured it would be a good way of saying thank you.

"Here," he said to the elf, handing him two sovereigns.

"_Really_?" Zevran raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You cannot be serious."

"I am. Consider it a belated thank you for everything you've done to help me."

Zevran, for once, didn't seem to know what to say. He blinked a few times, looked down at the money, and then laughed. "Such a confusing human. First I try killing you, then you spare my life, and now you're feeding my alcohol addiction. You confound me so. Why do you toy with my heart?"

"It's a problem," Thayer said, managing to keep a straight face. "A problem I just cannot fix."

Zevran grinned. "Well, Thayer, let me be the first to tell you, you're a cruel, but _lovely_ human. Whatever man you end up with will truly have a treasure." Thayer and Alistair shared a brief glance, one Zevran missed due to his delight over the brandy. "This is perfect for tonight. Just what I was looking for. I hope you all don't mind, but I have a prior engagement to get to."

"Mm, why am I not surprised," Alistair offered dryly.

"He said so yesterday, don't you remember?" Thayer shrugged his shoulders. "Go on, Zevran, enjoy your evening. Leliana can keep us company."

"Thank you again, really," the assassin said, genuine gratitude ringing in his voice. "I will see you all tomorrow. Stay safe. Enjoy the evening."

Thayer and Alistair watched Zevran disappear within the flowing crowd of people. Adventure and excitement swarmed around them, surging adrenalin through the mage's body. He could handle crowds, but he had to remind himself to keep his focus. Any unplanned jerks of his hand could send a jet of flame or ice if he didn't remain under control.

Alistair began looking around them. In the process he laid his hand upon Thayer's shoulder. "Where _is_ Leliana, now that you mention her?"

"I just saw her right over there." Thayer pointed just over his shoulder. When he turned around, she was nowhere in sight. He blinked. "She was looking at jewelry. Where did she go?"

"Wait, isn't that her?" Alistair pointed at her across the busy pathway at Leliana, who appeared to be following someone into a narrow alleyway. Thayer knew by the way she was moving that she was sneaking after them. Who was it? Why was she following them?

"I'd recognize the dress anywhere. Let's go."

The two men started to weave their way in and out of the crowd. Thayer grabbed Alistair's hand as a means of keeping the two of them close together, pushing through the numerous Orlesians grouped around the booths and along the pathway. It didn't take long for them to find the alleyway down which Leliana had disappeared, but after they ran down it they soon came upon a split path.

"Which way to go?" he asked.

"We could split up."

"Never safe. Let's—"

From the right came a clatter. Thayer, still gripping on to Alistair's hand, headed that way down the dark, narrow path. He stopped immediately when he heard a woman's voice.

"It was foolish of you to come back here, Leliana. The Orlesian government may have given up on finding you but your reputation did not die among the minstrels and bards. Did you think we would not know you were here? We know everything."

Leliana's voice came softly, like velvet. "Mm, am I supposed to believe that? It took you how many days to finally approach me? Either you just now found out I was here, or you were all too scared to cross me."

"Who is she talk—"

"_Shh_." Thayer brought a finger to his lips. Any sound would likely bring focus to them, and he didn't want to put Leliana in danger. Curiosity urged him to move closer, to see who was speaking, but he knew better. He stayed put.

The woman's voice grew irritated. "Believe you me when I tell you that it is neither. We simply waited for the right moment to strike. What you did to Marjolaine…_c'est incroyable_. After all that she did for you. We will make you pay."

Thayer heard a _shink_! He felt his heart sink. Whoever she was speaking to had drawn their dagger. Before he had a chance to react he heard a gruesome _squish_, followed by a splatter. Thinking the worst, Thayer gave in and bolted for the opening around the corner just a few yards away from him. Alistair's call behind him fell on deaf ears.

When the mage came across the scene he was surprised by what he saw. Leliana wasn't the one on the stone below. Rather, it was the woman she had been speaking to. Scarlet red blood poured from a slit across her throat and pooled beside her lifeless body.

Leliana turned around, the dagger's blade flat against her forearm. There was an edge to her eyes that faded once she saw who stood before her.

"Oh, Maker," she breathed.

"Leliana, do you—"

"Down!"

Thayer's natural reaction was to listen, and so he ducked to the ground. Something whisked past him in the air and hit a nearby wooden wall with a heavy thud. When he looked over his shoulder he saw a woman dressed in black, a dagger in each hand. Her quick, fluid movements got her up and over Thayer and Alistair in a mere moment. Her daggers clinked with Leliana's, and the battle started anew.

"Damn it, why don't I have my sword?" Alistair cursed.

Thayer said, "Just keep watch over the alleyway, more may be coming!"

He turned around, pausing at the fight before him. Leliana and the woman repeatedly blocked and parried one another's attacks, moving so fast that they nearly blurred together. He wanted to help, but he had no idea how to hit the spy without hitting his friend. The two of them fought valiantly, each grunting with effort in an attempt to overpower the other. Thayer couldn't help but stare in awe at their skill.

And then finally came an opening. Leliana pinned the woman to the wall and headbutted her, hard. It left the woman temporarily dazed. Thayer focused on the cold air around him, pulling it into a concentrated essence that he then magically shot directly at the spy. She cried out in surprise as she froze from head to toe.

Leliana, winded, took this time to catch her breath. Thayer moved close to her and helped her stand. She was bleeding; a nasty gash ran along her right forearm.

"Thank you," she said. "I wasn't expecting…"

"We're here," Alistair said. He moved toward the spy. With a grunt and a focused kick to her center he shattered her into dozens of pieces that clattered on the ground beneath them.

"We need to get this healed…" Thayer gazed at her wound. "I have some soothing balms upstairs that we can use. For now…" He laid his hand carefully atop the gash, seeing it mend in his mind's eye. Healing magic was hard for him, but after several moments of intense concentration, her skin began to slowly mend itself. Once he finished he felt light headed.

"Let's get back to the inn," Alistair said. His eyes kept darting from side to side. He put a hand on both Leliana's and Thayer's shoulders.

Thayer and Leliana looked at one another, somber.

Things were about to get much more complicated.


	8. Marjolaine

**Author's Notes**: Hi everyone! Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. Things have been a little bonkers here lately and I got sucked back into the Harry Potter world for a while. Just can't get enough, I tell you. It's an addiction! x_x At any rate, after posting some one shots there, I got back to working on this guy, because I played through Leliana's Song, and it was great fun. Made me love her even more! There are what I would consider to be minor spoilers for it in here, so please be aware of that before you read.

This chapter is a little shorter than usual, but only due to the fact that I didn't want to rush into the following scenes just to fit them in here. Hope you enjoy this one as much as the previous! Please don't forget to review!

* * *

"How do you feel?"

Leliana groaned as she shifted on her bed. She rested her now bandaged forearm over her stomach. She knitted her brow. "I could be better. But my arm doesn't hurt as much as before. Thank you."

"It'll be fine by the morning," Thayer promised. "That woman nearly cut into your muscle. You're lucky."

"If you say so."

Leliana fell silent after that, eyes distant. Thayer couldn't be entirely sure, but he felt like he knew why. The woman had mentioned Marjolaine.

Alistair wore an uncomfortable expression. He, too, had been there when Leliana had confronted Marjolaine in Denerim. He had heard the confusing exchange between them. Still, many questions had remained—questions Leliana had not exactly hurried to answer. Thayer knew not to press, but now there wasn't much choice. This was their second encounter with Marjolaine's followers, and it hadn't ended exactly well.

"Leliana," Thayer began.

"I know." The bard continued to look away. "I know. There is still more of the story I've hesitated to tell."

"I'm all ears," Alistair said, taking a seat on Zevran's bed. Thayer sat beside him so Leliana could continue lying down.

"I admit that I enjoy the game," Leliana said, quietly at first. "I came to realize that after we killed Marjolaine." She turned her head to look at the two men. Slowly, she sat up. "What I didn't tell you is that I wasn't the only one. To be trained by Marjolaine, I mean."

Somehow, that was not surprising to Thayer. Nonetheless he nodded along, wanting to hear more. "Mm-hmm."

"I would assume that the people we ran into were Marjolaine's most recent…minions, for lack of better wording. You know, ones waiting for her to return from Ferelden. I wish I'd stopped to ask questions, tried to figure out where they'd come from. I'm sure Marjolaine moved her base of operations, given how paranoid she was. Now we'll never know."

Alistair scratched his chin and then leaned back on the bed, propping himself up with his hands. "Did you know either of them?"

Leliana seemed surprised by the question. "No. Marjolaine doesn't like to keep people around her for long. Anybody I knew is likely…" She paused, sighing. "They're probably gone. And if not, I don't know where they would be."

"Did you have companions, then?" Alistair asked.

"Only two. One was killed after Marjolaine betrayed me, and the other…I'm not sure what became of him."

Thayer could see the pain in Leliana's eyes when she spoke of her companions. The pain had to be monumental. He couldn't begin to imagine what it felt like. He figured the blunt approach would reveal her true feelings on the matter.

"Do you think he's dead?"

"What?" Leliana furrowed her brow.

"Do you think he's dead?"

"No," Leliana said. She seemed to realize what Thayer was getting at. She cracked a smile. "Always looking for some kind of light, hm? That's what I love about you."

Thayer smiled. "Have to keep positive. Otherwise, you'll be overwhelmed. Consider it my mantra as a mage." In his peripheral vision he caught Alistair grinning at him.

Leliana glanced out the window beside her bed. A beautiful melody traipsed through the air, muffled by the glass. Feastday continued on the streets below. "Perhaps we'll run into him somewhere."

"You never know." Thayer patted his thighs, moving to stand. "For now, though, I think we should probably get prepared for our return to Ferelden. We're much safer there. And at least back home, we would have the advantage."

"I doubt any of them would come to Ferelden," Leliana said, shaking her head. "Without Marjolaine to guide them, they'll easily get lost. Many of her lackeys are street rats, born and raised here in Val Royeaux. They know nothing else, and usually never will."

"I missed so much by growing up in the Chantry," Alistair said jokingly. "What a world we live in, hm?"

"Try living in a tower your whole life," Thayer countered. He chuckled. "Well, the majority, I guess I should say. Whatever the case, I still think it's best for us to go back to Ferelden as soon as possible. We have a lot we need to get done. So much for a relaxing vacation."

"I suggest we take a boat or ferry across the Waking Sea this time," Leliana advised. "They have them leaving Val Royeaux several times a week. I know many of them stop in Amaranthine. We were going there, weren't we?"

Alistair cleared his throat. Thayer knew that he was trying to remind him of visiting Anora to discuss Duncan's memorial. He shot the blond a look, then said, "Yes, but we did have some other stops first. Still, if it gets us there without having to spend over a week traveling by foot, all the better."

"Maybe we should have thought of that at the beginning." Alistair had a somewhat smarmy grin on his face.

"Funny. You can travel by foot, then."

"Ooh, feisty."

. . . . .

Thayer had trouble sleeping that night. He and Alistair had spent a good hour or so talking about the situation at hand and what their next step was. Alistair, of course, had insisted on going to Denerim and speaking to Anora. It was probably the most logical next step, as from there, they could return north to Amaranthine.

Things weren't sitting right in Thayer's head. He'd hoped to stay in Orlais longer in an attempt to find more about the Calling, but it seemed the only decent thing he'd come across was Avernus' journal. Maybe he was meant to have found just that. Who knew anymore?

Maybe he would have to go as far as Weisshaupt. Maybe it was foolish to even try.

No, he told himself. He'd never been one for a defeatist attitude, and he wasn't about to succumb to one now. He'd done the impossible once. He could do it again.

Despite his every attempt, falling asleep seemed almost impossible. He lay in his bed for what felt like hours, closing his eyes, rolling over, pressing his face into his pillow—anything that would help him doze off.

In the end, he gave up. He had too much on his mind.

Thayer looked to his left. Alistair slept soundly, a light snore escaping with every breath. After a moment's thought, the mage decided he might as well use this time for something productive. He got up and crawled to the foot of the bed, feeling around in his temporary trunk located there until he found Avernus' journal buried deep within the folds of his robes from the other day. He pulled it up with him to the head of the bed. Beside him on the nightstand sat an oil lamp. Carefully removing the glass cover, he ignited the wick with a bit of fire magic, then placed the cover back, lying into his pillow.

Thayer opened the journal with the same sense of anticipation he had upon first reading it. The neat script within continued to the next entry, dated only a week after the first.

_Within the last week, I feel I've discovered something significant about my tainted blood. As any mage who may read this knows, our magical stores deplete with each and every supernatural manifestation we perform. Before, the only way for us to restore these reserves was to either rest or ingest a lyrium potion. However, after draining what energy I had, I experimented with my blood, and found that ingesting it seemed to rapidly regenerate my spirit. Though I felt physically fatigued afterward, it lasted only momentarily. _

_I performed this experiment several times over to the same effect. I hesitate to claim this will hold true for all mages, as I have no other subjects upon which to experiment. This is perhaps the worst part about being the only mage under Commander Dryden—any findings cannot be considered factual due to lack of proper diverse replication. _

_Some of the Wardens have begun experiencing a strange dream with a haunting song that they have described as being melodic and hypnotic. I'm quite positive this is the "Calling" we were warned about after joining. I have absolutely no desire to experience such a thing. Perhaps I will have a chance to explore it in my studies before King Arland's assault. _

The entry ended there. Thayer was tempted to read the next, but stopped himself. He wanted to take a moment to process what he'd just read. He had, of course, dabbled in blood magic, having been forever intrigued by Jowan's usage of it back at the Tower all that time ago. What he had done, however, fell painfully short of ingesting the tainted blood. Now he was curious. Would it work?

Thayer decided against mimicking Avernus' experiment until he'd read further in the journal. Such powerful magic required intense focus and energy. Practicing it was very difficult, and made even more so when there were so many people close to you who were vehemently against it. That was the main reason why Thayer had yet to truly experience its power.

But he was tempted. Oh, yes, quite tempted.

His biggest reason—obstacle, perhaps—for not delving in very far was sleeping beside him. Alistair was so passionately against blood magic; it would likely crush him to find out the man he had fallen for was using it. Thayer knew the dangerous line he was crossing by going down that path, but ironically, he was doing it _for_ Alistair. Or, more specifically, he was doing it for the both of them. Thayer wanted to be able to enjoy his life with Alistair without having to worry about the eventual haunting song that would drag him to the Deep Roads, and to his death.

He sighed. He had only been tainted for a year—he still had at least two dozen more to go before the severity of the situation would _truly_ hit home. Was he obsessing too much too early? Maybe. But it would seem Avernus had the same idea he did. At that moment, Thayer wondered what had happened to the other mage.

If only he were still around…

He glanced over at Alistair's bed. The warrior seemed so comfortable, so carefree. If only it were so simple for _him_. He recalled how peacefully he'd slept with Alistair beside him. Were Alistair's bed big enough, the mage likely would have climbed in with him to help himself fall asleep.

Thayer moved to the foot of his bed in order to hide Avernus' journal once more. As he moved back to lie down, he pursed his lips. Strangely enough, reading the journal had helped quell the various trains of thought in his head.

Maybe he _would_ get some sleep tonight.

. . . . .

That morning at breakfast, Thayer broke the news to Zevran that they would be going back to Ferelden as soon as possible. As he'd expected, the elven assassin was crestfallen.

"We're leaving already?"

"We're catching the next available boat to take us across the Waking Sea back to Ferelden."

He explained the reason why, and Zevran understood. Still, Thayer could tell he was irritated about it. In truth, deep down, so was the mage. This was supposed to be a relaxing time for them, free of trouble and danger. They hadn't even made it a week without something happening to ruin it. Zevran insisted that they could stay, but in the end, it didn't seem like the best idea. Always having to look over their shoulder for a possible attack would leave them paranoid—like Marjolaine had been. That wasn't appealing in the slightest.

The announcement set a damper on the mood at the table. Aside from the hustle and bustle from the kitchen and the other diners, not much was heard. All were silent.

After breakfast, Thayer and the others returned back to their rooms to gather their things. When he shut the door behind him and Alistair, he gave a heavy sigh. Thoughts from the night before began reappearing in his head. The momentary reprieve of concern over the taint in his blood had seemingly disappeared. If anything, now he was worried more than ever about leaving Orlais. What if he couldn't make it back soon enough? What if the answer lay _right here_ in Val Royeaux, just waiting for him to uncover it? It was very possible that Avernus had more to share, hidden in the hundreds of shelves at the Grey Warden headquarters.

He scrunched up his face.

"All right, spill," Alistair said all of the sudden. He had his bag on the bed, as well as several of his personal belongings. "You've been acting weird ever since breakfast. What's going on?"

Thayer, caught off guard, turned to the other. "Huh?"

"Something's bothering you," Alistair repeated. He pulled away from his bag and moved toward the mage. "You've been off in your own world since you told Zevran about us going back to Ferelden. You're disappointed, aren't you?"

An out.

Alistair wasn't wrong, but he wasn't entirely right. Thayer nodded. "Yes. We've barely been here a couple of days. The fact that we have to go back so soon is…upsetting."

"I can tell. Remember what I said, though? We'll get the order up and running in Amaranthine, then you and I can go wherever we want." Alistair leaned in, cupping Thayer's neck as he gave him a kiss.

Thayer felt conflicted inside. He wished he could tell Alistair the other reason he was so distracted. After everything they'd been through, he knew he deserved that much. But the fear of reprimand and the inevitable breakdown of their newfound relationship stopped him from doing so.

He was lying to the man he loved, and he hated himself for it.

"Wherever we want," Thayer repeated, smiling faintly. "You'd best be careful. I may take us to the ends of the Earth."

"As long as I'm with you, I could handle it," Alistair replied, moving in for another kiss.

. . . . .

"I've changed my mind."

"What?"

"I said I've changed my mind."

Thayer wanted to make sure he understood Leliana correctly. Just yesterday she had been eager to get out of Orlais and back to Ferelden. Not even a full day had passed. How had she changed her mind so quickly? What had caused it?

"Why?"

"Who cares why?" Zevran asked cheerfully. "I think it is a great decision. Whatever lets us stay a little bit longer, yes?"

"I don't want to run anymore," Leliana said. She gritted her teeth. "Marjolaine has been a blemish on my life for years. I want everything to do with her wiped off the map. I want to live my life in peace, and I'll never be able to do this if I have to worry about any other minds she poisoned and their plots against me. I learned that the hard way the first time."

Her bitter tone made Thayer somewhat anxious. He couldn't explain how, or why, but the idea of chasing down all of Marjolaine's followers was exciting. Did he miss the thrill of battle? He had seen so much of it in the last year. It would make sense.

"Glad to see I am not the only one who anticipates a nice chase," Zevran replied. The way he was looking at Thayer, it felt almost as if he'd read his mind. "And like I said, if we can stay a bit longer…"

The only person who had yet to speak was Alistair. Thayer looked to him, trying to gauge his response. Usually Alistair wore his emotions on his sleeve. Why did he seem so blank?

"What do you think?" Thayer asked him.

"Where do we even start?" Alistair made a face. "Leliana said it herself: she doesn't know where their base of operations is. Seems a little bleak to me."

"That doesn't mean I can't find it," Leliana stated. "I know Val Royeaux like the back of my hand. I may have not been here for years, but things do not change. Not when it comes to the game."

The game. Thayer couldn't count how many times he'd heard that from her. What did it even mean? What was 'the game'? What did it have to do with finding Marjolaine's lackeys and disposing of them?

He put aside his frustration as best he could. Asking about the game would likely draw out a long, complicated explanation that they didn't really have time for, or that he and Alistair wouldn't understand. Zevran followed without missing a step. No surprise there, Thayer thought.

Alistair cleared his throat. "Well, then, I repeat: where do we start? Is there a specific location we need to find? A person? A fuzzy kitty?"

"A fuzzy kitty?" Leliana asked, perplexed.

"Forget it, bad joke. Let's think about this."

"It would be safe to assume that whoever is left would have found out about their companions by now," Leliana explained. "We may have picked up the pieces to hide our trail, but in Val Royeaux, you are always being watched."

"Then it is also safe to assume that your cover was blown before you'd had a chance to even build one," Zevran said. "These followers, they would know your faces. But mine,"—he raised his eyebrows—"was nowhere to be seen. If anybody can find out information, I can. Just give me a starting location, and I can do all the rest."

Thayer could feel Alistair's eyes on him. Zevran was an assassin by trade, so of course he would know how to infiltrate without being discovered. Some part of the warrior still harbored distrust for the elf, and that irritated Thayer to a degree. After all, Zevran had had plenty of opportunities to kill him. He likely would have taken advantage of them by now.

"Lucky for you I came along for the ride, hm?" Zevran said with a wink.

"Marjolaine never liked dealing with petty criminals. She always preferred mercenaries, and if she was feeling rambunctious, apostates. Her pub of choice was called Dragonfyre. It is just along the partition between the residential and market districts. Mercenaries flock to that pub looking for work all the time. I'm sure you would be picked up there if you flaunted yourself enough."

"But Marjolaine's dead," Alistair said. "It's not as if she would be hiring people from beyond the grave. _Ooooh_." He pretended to be a ghost, which resulted in snorts and chuckles from the others.

"I was once her second in command…more or less. Marjolaine _always_ has a favorite. _She_ was the one who sent those two after me."

"How can you be so sure it's a woman?" Thayer inquired.

"It's always a woman," Leliana said with a sigh. "Marjolaine liked pretty things."

"Must have been because she was no catch, herself," Zevran said. When he received no laughs, he said, "Well, that was a wasted joke." He smiled to himself despite it. "All right. This is deceptively simple. I enjoy a challenge, though. It's been a while since I've been able to put my skills to the test."

"It would be in our best interest to keep clear of the market district altogether," Leliana said. "I don't doubt that we've been seen with Zevran, so he'll have some explaining to do. The further away we are, the better."

"Nothing a little charm can't smooth over," the elf assured. "I've been in worse situations."

"I don't doubt that," Alistair said, snorting.

"Then what should we do?" Thayer scratched his head. Sitting around and waiting seemed counterproductive.

"Enjoy ourselves as best we can until we find out more. I have plenty of other things in Val Royeaux to show you two. And Zevran." Leliana turned to the elf.

"Yes, beautiful?"

"I'll treat you to dinner if you get back to us by then."

"Oh, how lovely! A date." He rubbed his hands together, a devious glint in his eyes. "Leliana, you know just how to motivate me. I hope you brought some good coin. I am a hefty eater."


	9. Dragonfyre

**Author's Notes:** Zevran, oh, Zevran. You've grown on me since I started writing this story, which is one of the only reasons why you get a chapter with your POV. The other chars may in the future, but for now, you're quite special. Crazy little elven assassin, I love you so. :P

Haha, anyway. Here is chapter 9. This whole side-plot of my story wasn't intended to blow up as much as this has, but after playing Leliana's song, it was hard for me not to let it. I love Leliana :D

Skyline: I'm glad someone got the double reference. I felt like throwing in a little real world humor, so good to know it wasn't missed! And Thayer will start soon...but all I can say is that you'll have to wait until they're out of Orlais. Which will be soon.

The interest people have in this story makes me quite happy! Even though reviews are done, the story's views and stuff have gotten steadily better. If I promise more Thayer/Alistair fluff moments, can I request more reviews? ;) Hehe. As a side note, this chapter does switch between Thayer and Zevran's POVs, as well as different times of the day. Just a heads up!

Please enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Zevran Aranai, despite his failed attempt at murdering Thayer and Alistair, was quite the skilled assassin. Years of experience—both positive and negative—had honed his already natural abilities, giving him an edge up over most competition. Antivan assassins were world renowned, and the Crows? One would be foolish to try and run when one of them was on your tail. While he may have not been a Crow by title any longer he still was one from training, and his skills were just what this particular mission required.

Since joining Thayer and the others on their journey, Zevran felt as though he really had not been given a chance to shine. In moments of weakness, he occasionally thought they all still saw him as the one who failed at what he supposedly did best.

He was determined for this to go well. Very rarely did he have a single mission amongst his companions. He planned on succeeding and proving his worth.

He split from the others almost immediately after their discussion earlier that afternoon. He kept busy around Val Royeaux as he waited for night to fall. Perhaps Leliana had challenged him the way she did because she knew he wouldn't be able to retrieve information until late at night. After all, most mercenaries did what they could to collect jobs during the day. Not many hired at night, and those that did usually recruited _you_.

He should have thought of that.

Every so often Zevran's mind would wander to Thayer and the others, but he would reign in his thoughts in order to remain focused on the task at hand. He had absolutely no idea who he would be looking for. All he knew was that he would have to put on the air of a mercenary. He was excited at the prospect.

_What to do_, he thought. How did mercenaries act? All those he had come across in Ferelden seemed like imbeciles, more focused on brute strength than brains or talent. He had never seen an elven mercenary, so his role to play would most certainly be _legendary_. After all, he strived for the best, and in this case, the best was believability.

_I must be a tough, scrappy brute_, Zevran told himself. _Like the Crimson Oars back in Denerim._

Thankfully, he'd dressed the part. Earlier that afternoon, Zevran had lifted a set of inexpensive leather armor from an unsuspecting shop keeper who had had the 'misfortune' of falling asleep on the job, thanks to one firm touch to the neck from a certain elven assassin. The leather was poor. It would do the trick.

As the sun disappeared over the walls surrounding Val Royeaux, Zevran headed for the Dragonfyre pub. He only had the directions Leliana had given him, which got him in the right neighborhood. It wasn't until he saw a small sign posted on a column that he realized the place was right in front of him. It looked more like a house than a pub, with a set of steps leading up to a small porch, upon which sat several unattended tables.

Zevran gripped the door handle and stepped inside.

The interior of the pub was much different than what he was expecting. It was surprisingly intimate, with little open space. It reminded him a lot of the Pearl back in Denerim—the L-shaped bar took up the right corner of the space, and the remainder was filled with scattered tables set for two to four people. Just beside the bar was a locked wooden door in front of which a dwarven man stood. Zevran was immediately intrigued.

The ambiance left a sour taste in his mouth. Most of the patrons in the bar were seedy, unattractive men and women dressed in patchwork clothes and mismatched armor. An unidentifiable odor hung in the air.

He could identify the mercenaries with ease. There were at least seven or eight of them present.

This was a strangely displeasing side to see of Orlais, Zevran thought. Then again, he very rarely visited pubs and bars, opting instead for more personal venues whenever possible. Maybe they looked like this no matter where you went. This particular pub made him fondly recall a job he'd done years ago, where he took out a nasty slanderer who had destroyed a family-run pub's reputation.

_If only all jobs were that easy_, he thought wistfully.

To keep up his façade Zevran went straight for the bar, ordering himself a cheap drink. The bartender, a fair skinned woman with mousy brown hair, gave him a once over and snorted. Her accent clearly marked her from the Anderfels.

"Another mercenary? I swear, you're all we get in here nowadays. Don't see many elven ones. You had best be careful, little one. They're ruthless here."

Zevran rolled his eyes and said, "No, it is they who should be careful. I'm quite a talented fighter. I just came back from a mission, and came to celebrate."

The woman raised an eyebrow. She appeared nonplussed, but the shift in her posture told Zevran he might be on the right track—she was clearly interested.

"Came back alive? Not bad. Most mercs hired here end up never coming back. Suppose it's the curse of Dragonfyre."

"I won't succumb," Zevran said haughtily. He took his beer, put down a couple of bronze pieces and then started for one of the small tables. He felt the bartender's eyes upon him but refrained from looking in her direction.

All he could do now was sit and wait. He leisurely sipped from his drink here and there, catching different pieces of conversations as they floated in and out of his ears. Some women discussed Empress Celine's outfit from Feastday, while others harped about their husbands and their incompetence. He caught a captivating conversation between two men sitting behind him about the increasing prices at the local whorehouse. Zevran couldn't help feeling somewhat miffed—he'd visited there since their arrival. Had he paid more than others?

Zevran spent the entirety of his first beer investigating. In that period, he noticed that not a single person left or entered the pub. He also noticed that one mercenary in particular—a man with graying hair and rough skin dressed in mismatched leather armor—had gone up to the bar several times. He and the bartender, despite clearly knowing each other, pretended otherwise. Curious.

Playing the waiting game was not hard for Zevran to do. Still, he would do whatever he could to speed up the process. He needed to draw attention to himself, and quickly.

The next time the graying mercenary went up to the bar, so did he. He intentionally bumped into him as he turned around, his freshly poured beer sloshing out onto the floor.

"Watch where you are going, knife ears!" he exclaimed.

Normally, Zevran would have let the insult brush off his shoulder. He'd heard it thousands of times before. The words meant nothing to him now. But he was playing a role, and belligerence was his shining tool.

"Bastard!"

Zevran slammed his hands into the man's shoulders, sending him stumbling back. His flagon flew from his hand and shattered on the ground with a resounding _crash_. The crowning glory of the moment came as the man tripped over a nearby chair, falling to the ground in a messy heap.

All the patrons in the bar fell silent. Zevran could feel their eyes on him. He damned keeping under control—he was _supposed_ to be angry.

The man struggled to get up. Once upright he came at Zevran, towering over him by nearly a foot. A large, red vein ran down his forehead, throbbing. His face was flushed. "How _dare_ you push me. You will regret it!"

"You Orlesian mercenaries are all the same. All talk and no action." Zevran straightened his posture, holding his ground. "Call me that name again and you will be bleeding on the floor, gasping for life."

As the Orlesian man reached for his sheathed blade Zevran disabled his grip with a swift thwack to his wrist. He sidestepped behind him, jabbing the man in the neck with the side of his palm. The debilitating blow knocked him to his knees, and he gasped in pain.

Zevran looked up at the other patrons around him. Some appeared appalled, others, surprised. It wasn't normal for him, bringing this much attention to himself. He felt somewhat out of his element. However, he was quite positive that he'd done just what he needed to catch the attention of any interested parties.

"Would anybody else like to speak down to me?" he challenged.

. . . . .

"Maker's breath, this city is _huge_."

Thayer shared Alistair's sentiments with an agreeing murmur. They had been in Val Royeaux for a just a few days now, and in that time had more or less confined themselves to the lower half of the city, save for the eastern ports on the other side of the Grey Warden headquarters. Today, Leliana had taken them through a different set of doors leading from the residential district to a beautiful area just outside of the grand amphitheater. Thayer had never seen a play actually performed on stage, but he had to admit that he was quite eager.

"You could spend weeks in this city and never see everything," Leliana explained. "This part of the city is where most of the aristocrats and nobles spend their time. They even have their own residential district, off in the distance." She pointed to the right, toward the palace, and Thayer's mouth almost dropped.

The palace of Empress Celine I was without a doubt one of the most gorgeous and breathtaking structures the mage had ever seen. It was made out of the same stone and mortar that other buildings were, but something about it just _glowed_. Verdant ivy crawled down the majestic walls and towers, making the palace seem almost alive. Of course, he could only see a small bit of the palace from where he was—but every bit of it was beautiful.

"Everything is so much fancier here," Alistair commented, almost dryly. "Do you really need a palace that large? The estates back in Denerim are so much more manageable and aesthetically pleasing."

"Aesthetically pleasing, you say?" Thayer asked. He smirked. "Since when did you become a connoisseur of architecture?"

Alistair's cheeks turned slightly red. "Oh, be quiet. I'm just saying, they only go for the grand here, don't they?"

"Orlais doesn't know any other word but extravagant," Leliana said, chuckling. "It's half of what constitutes its charm. I miss the beautiful outfits, the lavish music, the delicious food…" She sighed longingly. "Maybe someday I will come back. Orlais will always change, but parts of it will always remain the same. Come on, let's explore the grand square. There are all kinds of things going on there!"

"Would any plays be on display this afternoon?" Thayer asked hopefully.

Leliana smiled. "I would imagine so. We can check the amphitheater, if you like."

Thayer did his best to avoid Alistair's smirk as they walked toward the heart of Val Royeaux.

. . . . .

It was needless to say that nobody took Zevran up on his offer.

The Orlesian he'd taken down had apparently some clout with the mercenaries in the bar. By taking down their suspected leader, he had officially earned himself enough respect to drink in peace. He ordered another drink—something heavier this time—and chose a different seat. Now he hugged the wall, with a view of the bar in its near entirety at his disposal.

He drank in peace for some time, keeping a watchful eye out for anyone who may have caught the show and would approach him. In the split second he chose to look down at the floor due to something sticky on his foot, a woman arrived at his table, having already seated herself across from him. She had short blond hair, full lips and dark blue eyes. Zevran raised his eyebrows.

"Well hello," he said, cocking his head to the side.

"Evening. I saw what happened earlier. You are quite brave to take on Graeme. He is one of the toughest men in here…cannot be bothered to do his job properly, from what I have heard, but still, toughest guy around." She had a thick Orlesian accent—northern Orlais, if Zevran wasn't mistaken. Her vowels were very tight. "I'm Risanna."

"Aran," Zevran said, not offering much more than a head nod in greeting. "And what brings a beautiful thing like you here? Surely you can find some place better to go than a bar full of mercenaries."

"Ah, but they often are the most gentlemanly," Risanna said. She giggled. "They will buy me a drink much quicker than most men in the city do. They know how to treat a lady."

"I see. Clever girl, you are. Should I take the hint and buy you something?"

"Oh, no, no, it is quite all right. I've had enough to drink for the night. I am simply…wandering."

Zevran studied everything about Risanna in their brief conversation. She kept eye contact very well—clearly she was interested. Was she Marjolaine's second in command? Unlikely. He doubted she would risk her identity so carelessly. This was a lackey, if anyone at all. But that was just as helpful, if not more so. She would have all kinds of connections.

He intentionally continued to stare at her as he thought. She smiled coyly at him, and he bit his lower lip. She was quite beautiful.

"So will you be here all night, then?" Zevran inquired.

"Not all night. I have to work in the morning, so I should be going soon. However, I do get so lonely at night. I would _love_ to have some company."

Zevran didn't hide his grin—it would have been out of character in every sense to do so. He was a brutish mercenary, after all. "Mm, I could fix that right up."

While there was a very good chance that this Risanna woman wasn't who he was looking for, Zevran knew he would be a fool not to take advantage of the situation in front of him. He also knew that if she _were _the woman he was looking for, it would be all the better. He liked taking chances—they kept him on his toes.

After downing the rest of his drink, he stood up, waiting for Risanna to lead him out.

As he followed her, the elven assassin couldn't help but take notice of the way she moved. Her body swayed side to side, almost in tune with the faint music that drifted through the city air. He soon came to stand beside her, though he would have been quite content to stay back and enjoy the view.

"How far are we traveling, my lovely minx?"

"Oh, not far at all. I live quite close."

Risanna slipped close to him, bringing her fingers up and over his shoulder. It sent faint chills down Zevran's spine. There was really nothing quite like a woman's touch, he thought fondly.

To his surprise, the chills didn't go away. In fact, they only seemed to worsen. Zevran's body began to feel heavy. He started dragging his feet, and soon found it nearly impossible to keep his eyes open. He didn't realize what was happening until it was too late.

Risanna's laugh echoed in his ears as everything went black.

. . . . .

"That was outstanding. Beautiful. Amazing!"

Leliana laughed cheerfully. "Tell us how you really feel, Thayer."

The three of them had caught the tail end of a live show in the amphitheater. Short though it had been, Thayer enjoyed it thoroughly. He'd never seen such a thing back home in Ferelden, nor did he think he ever would. While he hadn't quite understood the actual performance itself—the topic was lost on him, having come in so late—he didn't let that take away from his enjoyment of the show's aesthetics. Each actor's outfit was elaborately decorated, right down to the finest piece of jewelry. The stage itself was lavish for an outside theater, but magnificent. Above all, the actors themselves were attractive, with voices made of velvet.

Leliana was right. Orlais really _was_ a gorgeous place—in every aspect of the word.

It felt nice to see more of the world. Thayer knew he could never say that out loud for fear of being teased, but that didn't make it any less true. Going outside of the Circle wasn't unheard of for mages, but Thayer had a feeling that if Duncan hadn't conscripted him, he likely never would have gone beyond those barricade doors.

"I wonder how you-know-who is doing," Alistair mused on their way through the grand square. Twilight slowly crept over the large city walls, casting certain parts of Val Royeaux in darkness. "It's been a while."

"We'll know when we meet up later tonight," Thayer said. "We can only hope the best. He can take care of himself. Leliana, did you really think he would make it back by nightfall?"

The redhead laughed. "Mm, no. In all honesty, I doubt he will find anything tonight. If M—" she stopped herself, "if _she_ taught her second well, then she'll take her time to ensure every detail is considered before making a move. We will probably run into him wandering the market district, bored out of his mind."

Alistair snorted. "Knowing him, he'll find something to amuse himself."

"We've still got plenty of time before we have to worry about going back," Thayer said. He turned to Leliana. "Where else can we go before nightfall?"

"Anywhere. The city is ours."

. . . . .

Zevran awoke with a sharp pain in his head. He blinked several times, expecting things to come into focus. When they didn't, it took him a moment to realize that it wasn't his eyes; there was simply a lack of light wherever it was he had been taken. He tried moving, only to find that his wrists, knees and ankles were bound to the stiff surface beneath him. He was lying down, he knew that much. Things would have been somewhat easier to figure out if he could see, but he took relief in the fact that he was still alive. That mattered most right now.

He had a feeling his luck had worked out for him. Risanna surely wasn't the woman he was looking for, but he knew she was connected to her. The only question that remained now was whether or not he was he alone.

He groaned.

"Oh, good, you are awake."

Zevran tried to crane his neck in the direction of the voice, only to find he couldn't. He'd missed the binding on his forehead. No wonder his head hurt. "As opposed to being dead," was all he offered. He had to remember to stay in character.

"Do not worry, you will not be killed. We have many questions to ask, and you would be no use to us dead."

This wasn't Risanna. This woman's voice was softer, lilted. She, too, was Orlesian. This wasn't surprising. Zevran only wished he could see what she looked like. The one thing to give him pause was losing his sense of sight. He could not place his trust firmly in all his other senses.

"Then ask, before I break out of these binds and kill you."

The woman chuckled. He could hear her shifting around in place. There was a sudden flicker, and soon the ceiling was partially aglow with light from either a candle or lamp. He couldn't check to verify.

"You would do best to listen. Your life is in my hands, after all."

Zevran remained silent.

"Very good. Now, you will answer my questions truthfully. If I feel you are lying, I may bring Risanna back for a little torture. She has been dying to practice the extent of her magical abilities."

"Ask, and be done with it."

The woman's soft-spoken voice turned hard and inquisitive. "How do you know Leliana? We have seen you around with her. You are not from this region. We would recognize you."

Zevran didn't hesitate in his reply. "I was hired as a bodyguard. She contracted me in Lydes."

"Hmm." Something in her voice told Zevran she didn't believe him. He knew he would need more detailed replies for the following questions.

She continued, "Bodyguard. So she knew we would come. Why did you leave her alone with those other two men on Feastday? Who are they?"

"Companions of hers. One is a mage, the other, a warrior. Leliana said she would not need me and said to enjoy myself, so I left."

"You seem awfully close to her companions. Almost like friends."

She was attempting to lead him on. Zevran licked his lips. "Have you never buddied up to someone in an attempt to earn more work? Mercenaries are only as good as their next job. Or are you not one? That is what I assume." Or so he'd led her to believe.

"I am many things," the woman replied cryptically. Zevran had to refrain from snorting. "How long are you to protect Leliana?"

"Until she decides to leave Orlais," he replied. "She did not give me an exact date."

The woman fell silent. Whatever she was thinking, it must have frustrated her—Zevran could hear the gentle rhythmic tapping of her foot against the floor. It sounded like wood, so he surmised that they were in some home of sorts. The flickering glow on the low ceiling above more or less confirmed this.

"I hold no loyalty to any of them," Zevran stated, a distinct tone of apathy ringing in his voice. "I take jobs wherever I can get them."

"How interesting."

Both fell silent. Zevran's mind buzzed with different outcomes for his predicament. He felt he'd chosen his words carefully. From the way she had responded, he had every reason to think she believed him.

How he hated not having the ability to see his target's expressions and movements.

"It would be in my best interest to kill you now that I have what I need," the woman said. "But…I have a proposition."

Zevran feigned interest. "I'm listening."

"Leliana will be expecting our attack. We need to draw her into an ambush where she is unarmed. We are going to pay you handsomely to help."

"How much is handsomely?" Zevran asked. "I can dispose of her single-handedly when she least expects it. Nobody will know you did it, nor will she bother you no longer."

"No." The woman sounded suddenly cross. "This is a personal vendetta. I must kill her myself."

_Interesting_, Zevran thought. This was the first time she had said _I _and not _We_.

"We will give you ten sovereigns now to prove my sincerity. All you must do is bring her to the Chantry grounds tomorrow night. We will take care of the rest. Once we have her, you will receive another twenty sovereigns."

Thirty sovereigns. Zevran could only dream of getting something like that nowadays. His cut while working for the Crows had never been much; certainly nowhere near that amount. Leliana would owe him considerably for not truly taking them up on the offer.

He cleared his throat.

"We have a deal."


	10. The Confrontation

**Author's Notes: I'M BACK. I'M BACK! My muse has returned! This is a really joyous occasion for me, because I've been dry as a desert for DA inspiration for quite some time. I am SO sorry for those of you who have been waiting for a while, please forgive me...**

**In exchange for my absence I promise to have lots of awesome Amell/Alistair moments in the next chapter. Lots of them! :D**

**Please let me know what you think of this chapter...it took me a while to write it because I was struggling with how I wanted to connect everything. It clicked at the end, though, and I hope it shows. Now we can get this show back on the road! **

**Thanks to all my loyal readers for your patience and support. This chapter is for you!**

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Thayer stared out the window of his and Alistair's room, watching people mill about the street below. Night had fallen ages ago, but Zevran had yet to return. He knew he had no reason to worry; Zevran could take care of himself. Still, this was a reconnaissance mission. Shouldn't he have come back by now?

"You need to stop staring out the window. Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'a watched pot never boils'?"

The mage turned around, his eyes meeting with Alistair's. He couldn't help but smile.

"He'll be back in his own time. The pub has to close eventually."

"You're right. I'm just surprised he hasn't returned by now. You don't think he actually ran into her, do you?"

"I doubt it," Alistair said. He put his hands on Thayer's hips. "Knowing Zevran, he probably had a few drinks, got some useful information, and is off gallivanting with some woman or man, or maybe even another elf." He made a face. "Ew. That wasn't something I wanted to picture."

"Let's hope that's what happened."

"Oh, don't worry. You know Zevran. He's just fine."

Alistair began moving in for a kiss when a knock came on the door. He pulled away in surprise, sputtering out, "Who is it?"

A thick accent came from the other side. "Your every fantasy."

"Zevran!"

Thayer moved past Alistair and opened the door. Standing there, looking somewhat worse for wear, was their friend the assassin. Thayer ushered him in, went next door to get Leliana, and then returned to his room.

"Do you need any healing?" he asked the elf after shutting and locking the door.

"No, no," Zevran replied. He rubbed his wrists gingerly. "I welcome the pain. It has been a while since I've felt the dull tug of discomfort."

Zevran barely had a chance to sit upon Thayer's bed before Alistair said, "Well, tell us what happened!"

"Where to begin?" The elf pursed his lips. "I went to Dragonfyre and found a beautiful young woman named Risanna. She was quite the charming one…"

Zevran continued on with his tale, informing his friends of how he had been tricked and magicked, then brought before Marjolaine's lackey who offered him a proposition after a long, drawn out conversation. By the end of his tale the Antivan seemed somewhat frazzled.

Thayer scratched his eyebrow. "So she wants you to take Leliana to the Chantry grounds? Isn't that too public of a place?"

"I have a feeling she wants to make an example of me. I doubt it would take place there, but it's a starting point for people to see me come, but never leave."

Leliana appeared distant, and her voice softened as she continued, "Such a twisted thing to do…"

"Obviously we can't do it," Alistair said. "If she plans to kill Leliana around the grounds, we can't fight back. There could be severe retribution."

"The Chantry grounds at night are not that populated," Leliana explained. "And there are several small alleyways surrounding them where I could easily be disposed of if someone were determined enough. That is likely her idea."

The warrior furrowed his brow. "Sounds deliciously morbid."

Thayer made a face at Alistair. He didn't want to picture Leliana's body being thrown into a nondescript alleyway.

Whoever this woman was would regret getting involved with them, he thought.

"Well, I suppose the step would be to decide what we're going to do. Obviously Zevran has to go with her and take her there. Alistair and I can go there early and just wait."

"There will be eyes everywhere, I can assure you," Leliana said. "It will raise suspicion if you are loitering."

"Well, we might as well go in with our swords held high and Thayer's hands ablaze," Alistair said with a snort.

"Just wait for us inside the Chantry," Leliana stated. "I will do my best to have them guide us into the alley running alongside the eastern side of the building. That way you know where we are."

"We will be armed, so there is no need to worry," Zevran added, having apparently caught the look on Thayer's face. "I can assure you, we can hold them off long enough for backup."

"Assuming we need it." Leliana smirked playfully.

Thayer shook his head.

He hoped that this would work…

. . . . .

"Ouch. Watch it, that's my foot."

"Well, I'm sorry your foot decided to be in my way. I did tell you I was trying to pass through here."

Alistair frowned. "I can't help it. I haven't been in a Chantry for a while, and they're all giving me the look."

"The look?"

"You know, the _look_." Alistair stared at the people wandering around the grand Chantry hall. "They _know_ I used to be one of them. I swear it."

"They don't know any such thing," Thayer disagreed. "And why are you getting so anxious about it? You never seemed to care before."

"Yes, well, I've never been inside one a Chantry waiting to commit a murder, either. I think that's a grand contributor to my anxiety."

Alistair was such a conundrum sometimes. One minute he had no morals and the next he acted like a saint. Thayer wondered how he managed it. Then again, part of his charm were his ups and downs. Alistair was only human—the mage couldn't blame him for feeling ill at ease. Didn't make it any less unnerving, however.

Thayer folded his arms over his chest and sighed. Nobody was looking at them, despite Alistair's concern. Still, it was hard not to feel just _slightly_ anxious. Even after all they had been through, there was something to be said about the build up to a battle. He'd killed hundreds, maybe even thousands of darkspawn, and more humans and elves than he'd have liked, yet he always got that pump of adrenaline right before a confrontation.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Just before nine," Alistair replied.

They were to leave exactly at nine o'clock. Zevran had timed it so that he and Leliana would arrive just past the hour. By the time Thayer and Alistair stepped outside the Chantry they were supposed to be able to see their friends and enemies traveling down the eastern side of the building into an abandoned alleyway.

"I hate waiting."

"Me too, love. Me too."

Time passed at an agonizing pace. Every minute Thayer strained to hear the bells ringing, signifying the change of the hour.

"I can't wait anymore," he said, staring at the large clock hanging above the stage just in front of the numerous pews that lined the Chantry. They had only a minute to go.

He turned to Alistair. "Let's go."

"No argument from me. I'm ready."

Thayer ran his hands down the front of his robes. After taking a moment to center himself he was on his way toward the arched doors across the long hall that led out to the grounds. Nobody paid him any mind on his way out, much to his relief.

The large wooden door groaned as he pushed at it, stepping out into the cold night air.

Once his eyes adjusted to the dark sky he looked around for any sign of Leliana or Zevran. He knew they had come out early, but it couldn't have been enough to—

"Hey, over there," Alistair said. He pointed to the left.

Thayer caught sight of Leliana, Zevran and two unknown figures out of the corner of his eye. He nudged Alistair, giving him a quick nod before heading down the steps and onto the grounds. Timing was everything here, but an idea hit Thayer so hard over the head that he stopped in his tracks.

Alistair said with a strain in his voice, "Why did you stop? We have to go!"

"Come here."

As Thayer began to slowly trace his index and middle fingers over Alistair's forehead, cheeks and nose, the blond grunted and said, "What are you doing?"

"They'll _recognize_ us."

How could he have not thought of this before?

Alistair caught on. "Are you glamouring me?"

"It doesn't have to last long, but it will help keep them from knowing who we are."

"You couldn't have thought of this in the Chantry, hm?"

Thayer narrowed his eyes, concentrating. "Oh, be quiet. It just hit me."

Once he'd finished, Alistair's pointed nose rounded out, his brow shrunk back and his skin grew weathered. He looked virtually unrecognizable.

"What do I look like?" he asked curiously.

"If it lasts, you'll see when we're done. For now, I've got to get my own done."

Glamouring himself was difficult. Thayer had only done it a few times in his life, but now wasn't the time to doubt his abilities. Closing his eyes he slowly ran his fingers over his face, dragging them along the contour and readjusting the shape of his chin and jaw line.

He finished with a sweeping motion over his hair, causing it to flare red.

Alistair laughed. "Oh, you'll never live this one down. You look absolutely comical."

"Now's not the time to care," Thayer replied, despite knowing immediately that the color red he'd attempted had clearly not worked out. He pointed over his lover's shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

Alistair nodded, then started around the hedge surrounding the Chantry. Thayer followed behind him down the pathway which grew darker and narrower the further back they went. How long was this alleyway, he wondered?

Suddenly the warrior stopped. Thayer nearly ran into him, stumbling over his robes. He flushed, about to speak. Alistair held up his hand. From not too far away came the sound of voices—Orlesian voices lush with disgust.

"You are alone, Leliana. When we are done with you, it will be as if you never existed."

"It is a pity you turned. You were one of Marjolaine's most prized possessions."

Thayer heard Leliana say, "I was a fool to think killing Marjolaine would not mean my own death. I cannot believe you turned against me…how could you?"

She must have been speaking to Zevran. She was playing her part well.

"This is an awkward position to attack from," Alistair whispered over his shoulder. "It's an open space in there, we might injure Leliana or Zevran."

"How many of them are there?" Thayer asked.

Alistair peeked around the edge of the brick wall just long enough to catch a glimpse. "Six with Leliana and Zevran, I think. Unless I missed one."

"All it would take is one well aimed spell and I could hit them strong enough to knock them all off their feet." Thayer paused. "Well, I think."

He'd never used the spell before but had read about it just a little bit ago in a book he'd taken from the Grey Warden library. Chain lightning was not easy to execute, and this was likely not the right time to test it. However, if successful, it would make short work of their adversaries.

"What are you thinking? What spell? Wouldn't it hit Leliana and Zevran?"

Thayer hadn't thought about that. He cursed under his breath. "Well, we could go in blind. This wouldn't be the first time. Probably won't be the last."

"Anything you can do to give us at least a little bit of an advantage?"

Thayer chewed his lip. When it hit him he went to snap, only to stop himself.

"A glyph."

"What?"

"I need to see Leliana and Zevran. Move."

Alistair stepped aside and Thayer moved into his place. He carefully peered around the corner. Sure enough their two friends were surrounded on all sides.

"Do you have any last words?" one of them asked—a tall, slender woman with smooth brown hair.

Leliana remained silent.

Thayer wasted little time. He retrieved his staff from its back holster, pointing it at his friends and channeling his magical energy into a glyph of repulsion. When he'd begun his journey as a Grey Warden the glyph had been integral to his survival. He hadn't used it in ages, but it came as naturally as ever. The magic pulsed from his staff and onto the ground, the created glyph glowing a bright blue.

"What is this? A glyph!"

"We're not alone!"

Alistair and Thayer shared a nod before moving into the open space. One of the women, a blond, created a fireball within the palm of her hand. Thayer had his opponent.

"Oof!"

Out of the corner of his eye he watched a short elven man fly through the air, repelled by the power of the glyph. He hit the wall with a yelp.

"You do not know what you are getting yourself into," the blond told Thayer. Her blue eyes were icy, glimmering in the light of her fireball.

Thayer readied his staff. _She_ had been the one to seduce Zevran, apparently—she fit his description perfectly. "Nor do you, _Risanna_."

She hesitated briefly before throwing the fireball at him. He met it with a flash frost summoned from the cold air around him. He wanted to test her abilities—who knew what she was capable of?

"Zevran, behind you!"

Leliana's voice distracted Thayer and sent his attention toward their elven friend. He sidestepped a dagger that nearly impaled his chest courtesy of the slighted male elf. In a split second he had the other's arms locked behind him and the blade at his neck. A flash of red spurt through the air and the elf's body dropped to the ground with a _thud_.

When Thayer returned his attention to the mage she was gone. He looked around the enclosed area and soon found her going for Alistair, who was fighting blade to blade with a Qunari.

"Alistair, watch out!" he shouted.

The blond was too quick. Her paralyzing touch stiffened Alistair's body and sent his large frame straight to the ground. The Qunari took advantage of the moment and knocked Alistair's weapon from his hands, sending it crashing across the stone ground.

Thayer needed to protect him but he knew his main priority was getting Risanna out for the count first. She could easily turn the battle against them with power like that.

He aimed and focused all of his energy into the tip of his staff. An arc of lightning crackled to life and connected with the Qunari. He crumpled to the ground, howling in pain.

"You will not be protected forever, Leliana."

Thayer turned toward the voice. It came from a lithe woman dressed in elegant wear. Her hair was tied loosely behind her, draping down toward the small of her back. She was almost waif-like in her appearance. How could someone so slight be so powerful?

Zevran started for her, blade at the ready. She moved with lightning fast reflexes, sending him right into the waiting arms of the blond. Within moments Zevran, too, was paralyzed, falling to the ground like a board.

It was Thayer and Leliana against the mage and this waif of a woman.

The glowing blue glyph beneath them faded.

Thayer gripped his staff, primed and ready.

"It appears as if we have evened the numbers," the dark haired one said.

"You were never one to fight fair, Mylene," Leliana said. "Another ambush? Too much of a chicken to fight me one on one? You know you would lose, clearly."

Mylene stiffened slightly, tightening her grip on the dagger in her hand. The blade glistened with blood in the pale moonlight. Thayer wondered whose it was.

"I will make short work of you, Leliana. You disgraced us, disgraced Marjolaine." Mylene spat at her feet. "You are dirt."

Mylene lunged at Leliana. Thayer pointed his staff at her, ready to fry her with a fireball, but he felt a jolt rock his body. He dropped his weapon and stumbled back. The blond had her hands poised together, and her hair stood slightly on end.

"You think you know the elements?" Thayer chuckled derisively. "My magic helped me defeat an Archdemon. You're nothing."

"Pride cometh before a fall," Risanna jeered.

Thayer stared at the ground beneath the blond. He pointed his hand at it, fingers outstretched. He began to shake his hand back and forth, willing the earth beneath it to move.

"An earthquake? Ha! You move too—ah!"

The ground beneath Risanna began to shake violently, knocking her off balance. She grunted upon hitting the ground and tried to stand up but again fell flat.

A fireball formed in her hand. Thayer snapped his fingers and a sudden burst of frost extinguished it.

"Apostates never learn."

Risanna held out her hand and shot another bolt of lightning at Thayer.

This time, he was prepared. He managed to harness its power, holding the crackling energy between his hands. It vibrated, brimming with energy.

He focused on it, strengthening the bolt before sending it back at the blond. Risanna screamed when it hit her. The lightning coursed through her and diffused quickly into the stone. Her now lifeless corpse body twitched several times before falling flat on the now still ground.

Thayer turned around just in time to see Leliana knock Mylene down. Her dagger fell from her hand and clattered over the stone by the body of her fallen elven comrade. Leliana was atop her before Thayer could even blink.

"Tell me why I should spare your life," Leliana growled at her, holding her blade against Mylene's throat.

Mylene swallowed roughly. Despite her position, she did not quiver.

"Even if you kill me, you will never be free of this threat. We are many."

"You are a liar. But if you are not, I am not worried. Any last words?"

Mylene said nothing.

Thayer caught the beginning of Leliana's blade digging in to her throat before closing his eyes and looking away.

At the sound of Leliana climbing up and off of her opponent Thayer looked back at her. She wiped the blood spatter from her cheek, letting out a sigh.

"Finally, it is over."

"Is it?" Thayer asked.

Leliana nodded.

"How do you know?"

"Marjolaine is dead. Mylene is dead. Risanna is dead. I doubt there will be more."

Nearby, Alistair groaned. Thayer turned to him and watched him struggle to stand.

"Bloody son of a…"

"Well, that's one. Has Zevran come to yet?"

Thayer looked for their elven companion. He was lying nearby, blood trickling down his forearm. It had begun to pool around him.

The mage rushed to Zevran's side. "How long has he been like this?"

"No clue, I've been out," Alistair replied. He limped over to Thayer, Zevran and Leliana. "That damn Qunari bashed my knee with the flat of his blade. My leg is killing me."

Thayer was about to rest his hand atop the wound and heal it when Zevran began to stir. He glanced up at Thayer, then to Leliana, a half-smirk appearing on his face.

"Oh, Thayer. Red is not a good color for you…" He shook his head. "I hate being paralyzed."

"Tell me about it." Alistair grumbled. "We miss all of the good stuff and have to watch it happen."

Thayer frowned. "Zevran, stop moving, I need to heal your arm."

"Ah, what would we do without you? Even poorly glamoured as you are?" The elf smiled. He extended his arm to Thayer, who picked it up in one hand and used the other to heal it. He closed his eyes. "Healing always tingles. Or maybe it's just Thayer touching me."

Leliana chuckled, but Alistair remained stiff lipped.

"There. We're all set. Be careful. Comments like that may not get you healed next time." Thayer moved to stand, a smirk on his face.

He turned, prepared to head back to their rooms. Carnage surrounded them—multiple bleeding corpses lay all over the ground, creating an impossible mess. It made the mage sigh.

"We have to clean this up somehow," he said.

Alistair came up beside him and gripped his shoulder. Thayer's knees buckled from the sudden pain that shot through his body.

"Ow, Maker!"

"What, what?"

Thayer lay on the ground, looking down at his shoulder. Adrenaline from before had kept him from feeling the full effects of the injury given to him by Risanna. His robes were singed, and when he moved the fabric aside he could see a gaping wound on his collarbone from her electric blast. Her powerful magic had done some severe damage.

Zevran offered his hand to help the mage stand.

"Sorry, I was attacked by a spell and it did a real number on me. I suppose I'll need to do some healing, myself. Anyway, as I said, we need to clean this up."

"Why don't you do what you did last time? The ice and everything?" Alistair suggested.

"I recommend fire," Leliana said. "The nearest well where we could drop these bodies is quite a ways away. Ice would not disfigure the bodies fast enough, and is easily thawed. We need quick action to remove any trace of their identities."

For the briefest of moments Thayer pondered just how sick and twisted their conversation was. Disposing of corpses by lighting them ablaze—was this what his life had become after defeating the Archdemon?

It probably should have bothered him more, but it didn't.

"Well, it that's the case, I suggest you all go back the way we came. I have some work to do."

Wincing, the mage followed after his three companions. Once they were safely down the alleyway he turned back around and looked at the leftover mess before him.

This was a lot to do…how would one spell take care of all of this? He would be exhausted by the end of it—even more than he already was.

_Avernus_.

The name popped into his head randomly.

Or perhaps not so randomly. He'd read about Avernus using his blood as a means of replenishing his magical energies. Thayer had been eager to try it ever since, but hadn't yet had the opportunity.

He looked over his shoulder. Alistair, Leliana and Zevran were distant enough that they might not notice…

It was now or never. Thayer looked back at the bloodbath, then took in a deep breath. He took his fingertips and carefully reached inside his singed robes, rubbing them against his open wound. The pain shocked his system and sent a wave of endorphins through him.

As he pulled back his hand he noticed that the blood almost seemed to glow. It seeped into his skin, and suddenly he felt invigorated. His muscles ached and his wound smarted, but his spirit felt _alive_.

"All right, I can do this."

An inferno. That was what he needed.

Thayer searched for his staff and holstered it on his back. After, he extended his arms in front of him, palms facing outward. He closed his eyes and pictured a towering, swirling flame in his mind. In one upward sweeping motion Thayer summoned a pillar of fire that engulfed all of the bodies, weapons and blood in the small, enclosed space.

The blazing heat nearly knocked him back. He couldn't remember the spell ever being this power before. Had his blood done something to it?

He needed to read Avernus' journal tonight. Perhaps there was something in there that would help him understand…


	11. Leaving Val Royeaux

**Author's Notes: Apparently holiday retail is doing wonders for my muse, because she has been running rampant for the past couple of days. I don't mind, I just wish I had the time to sit down and work with her as much as I really want to! Oh well, next week I have lots of days off and can take advantage of some rest so she and I can work together and create more of the story. Whoo!**

**Skyline: I've been a mess! But in a good way. Busy busy busy, and enjoying the fact that I can write again. Haha! Glad to see you're still readily reading, I always appreciate your thoughts, etc. :) How've you been? **

**ashez2ashes: He will, he will! But the joyful question is...when will it finally happen? Mwahaha. We shall see. *cough*Iamevil*cough* **

**Hope y'all enjoy this chapter as much as the previous! It's a little shorter, but you'll understand why when you see the end. It just made sense. :) Lemme know what you think!**

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_Magic is an ability inherent to only a select group—an elite. The experiences of these so called elite can never be truly understood by the mundane, those who I have not so affectionately dubbed '_Normals_'_.

_On that note, magic as it is understood now is the manipulation of the world and its energy that surrounds us. _

_But then I think: what magic lies _within_?_

_The strength and wonder that lies in our blood is an abundant, untapped source of raw energy. What is this substance that can power the bodies of millions of living beings? _

_I ponder this day in and day out. Each and every discovery I make about this power drives my studies further—I cannot get enough. The possibilities are endless._

_Today, through a completely unintentional error I have stumbled upon an interesting phenomenon. It would seem that by sacrificing my own blood I am able to resist the exhaustion that comes through extended magical activity…_

_I discovered this thanks to a bleeding cut from an incident involving a stray shard of glass. After an arduous day of magical experimentation I dropped a phial that shattered upon my table and pierced my skin. I used magic to clean up the mess, but to my surprise, the blood that had dribbled down my forearm had disappeared, almost as if it had evaporated. On the same note, I did not feel the lull of exhaustion that comes from performing such magical tasks._

_This is by no means factual evidence that I can supply my own lifeblood to prevent supernatural exhaustion, but it warrants repetition. Once I have reproduced the results I will have to find someone upon which to duplicate the experiment. _

_If possible, of course._

Thayer closed Avernus' journal, eyes narrowed and unfocused. He'd read the particular entry three, maybe four times over. It certainly pertained to what he had experienced, but how dangerous was it to experiment with one's blood like that? Sacrificing it in exchange for not feeling the exhaustion that came from using magic?

Perhaps that was why all the blood mages Thayer had run across always looked so pale, sullen and aged. They were giving up their very vitality as a means of powering their magic.

He didn't want to do that. That was far too complicated. He just wanted to find a cure for the Calling so he didn't have to worry about dying so young.

Doubt suddenly entered his head. What if blood magic _didn't_ have the answer? What if he was wasting his time with this? So far nothing had helped. Maybe it was a lost cause that he needed to just drop.

No. No, he couldn't start thinking that way. The power that blood magic held was phenomenal—he'd seen it in action earlier tonight. There _had_ to be an answer somewhere. He just needed to keep looking…

He glanced beside him and saw Alistair sleeping comfortably on his back with his arm hanging loosely over the side of the bed. He snored soundly.

Thayer supposed right now he really should have been sleeping. They had a long journey through Ferelden ahead of them and would need their rest. Try though he might, sleeping had proven near impossible. He was still brimming from what had happened earlier.

He wished he had someone to talk to about all of this…

For now he supposed all he could do was stew on it.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm his mind. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day and he needed to get some rest.

. . . . .

"What's wrong? You've barely eaten your breakfast."

"Huh?"

Thayer blinked a few times. Once again he had lost himself in thought.

Alistair gave him a strange look. "That's the third or fourth time I've had to bring you back to reality this morning. What's going on in that head of yours?"

Leliana said, "He's probably thinking of the large task ahead of him. He's got quite a few things to do, yes?"

"Where is our next stop, then?" Zevran asked.

"Highever, right?"

Thayer looked at Alistair, giving him a soft smile. "Yes, Highever."

Highever had been on Alistair's mind ever since Duncan had passed well over a year ago. He had been quite patient with his desire to create a memorial for the man he admired so, and in truth, the timing was right. They had all of the information they needed on rebuilding the Fereldan Grey Warden Order, and Highever was on the way to Amaranthine.

Alistair seemed tickled pink by the idea. A wide smile took over his handsome face, and his dark eyes lit up. It made Thayer grin.

"I haven't been to Highever in quite some time," Zevran said. He stroked his chin and hummed thoughtfully. "How long will we be there?"

"However long it takes to speak with Teryn Cousland." Thayer pushed his eggs around his plate, mixing them with his potatoes. "I doubt terribly long."

"Eager to get to Amaranthine?" Leliana asked.

When Thayer remained silent, Alistair nudged him. "Ah, was that what you were thinking about?"

"I suppose you could say that."

Thayer sniffed. In truth, he _had_ been thinking about Amaranthine, but he'd also been thinking about going back to the Circle Tower to see Wynne. He knew the reason he wanted to speak with her was in order to get some guidance, but he also knew he couldn't tell her _why_ he needed it. There would be no need to justify a visit to Wynne for his companions, but the mentoring mage would know something was on Thayer's mind. She always knew, somehow.

This was frustrating.

"So, are we leaving today, then?" Alistair asked. "Or did we have some business to finish up here?"

"We would probably do best to leave today." Leliana cleared her throat. "Val Royeaux holds nothing else for us."

"If Leliana says it's best, then I suppose we should go upstairs, pack up our bags and get ready to go."

Thayer returned to his room shortly thereafter with Alistair not too far behind. He barely had a chance to reach for his bag at the foot of his bed to start packing before he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist. He nearly yelped.

"All right, you, what's got you so preoccupied?"

Thayer pressed a hand over his heart, easing into Alistair's embrace. For the briefest of moments he thought of telling him what he'd experienced last night—telling him what he was trying to do, how he wanted to save them. Then he remembered how atrocious that would make things and he clammed up.

_Damn._

"Ah, I get it." Alistair squeezed him and pressed his lips against Thayer's ear. "You're nervous about going to Amaranthine, aren't you?"

_Just go with it_.

The mage nodded. "You realize this falls all on us."

"Well, not _entirely_ all on us. We'll have some help. I heard they've got a new captain of the guard up at Vigil's Keep. Relax." Alistair planted several kisses down Thayer's neck, sending chills down the mage's spine.

Distinctly uncomfortable with the spotlight being so firmly on him, Thayer asked, "So, you're excited about going to Highever. Does this mean you'll be leading the expedition to speak with Cousland?"

"What, and take the reigns from you? You're our fearless leader. I thought we cleared the air about me being the faithful sidekick."

"I just thought you might like to be the one to talk with him, since you knew Duncan better than I did."

"Better, true, but he was still an important figure in your life, too. He conscripted you, after all."

Thayer sighed. That was true, Duncan had been the one to introduce him into the life of a Grey Warden—had been the reason why Thayer now lived with a limited amount of time left. Without him, this equally blessed and cursed life would have never been possible.

"I wonder what Teryn Cousland will say."

"I doubt he'd turn us away. Duncan was a well-revered man. He deserves to be remembered."

"Then I suppose we should be getting ready to go, hm?"

Alistair planted several more kisses along Thayer's neck. The mage turned around in the other's embrace and looked at him, somewhat surprised to see a grin stretched out upon his face.

"Can't we stay just a few minutes longer? We'll be traveling for a long while and there won't be any privacy. I've gotten used to being alone with you whenever I want."

"And just what did you have planned that we need privacy for?" Thayer asked, an inquisitive brow rising.

Alistair simply smirked.

. . . . .

"There you two are. We thought you had gotten lost in your own room."

"Well, that's what _she_ thought. _I _thought you two might be enjoying a few carnal pleasures. After all, the door was locked."

Thayer paused. Had Zevran really just said that?

"We were discussing Grey Warden business," he said, stammering.

The sheer bluntness of Zevran's statement had thrown him for a loop. He was unable to come up with anything better, and he worried they wouldn't believe him.

"We went through the ritual again," Alistair added quickly. He cleared his throat. "Needed to make sure we knew what we were doing before we put people through it. No sense in causing them bodily harm, all that. You know."

Neither Leliana nor Zevran proceeded further with the topic, but Thayer could have sworn he saw the elf give him an incredulous stare.

Why they hadn't told the others yet, he wasn't sure. Leliana and Zevran were not judgmental people—yet part of Thayer worried that perhaps they might think something strange of it. He knew things would be easier if they were aware of the relationship between the Wardens, but he hadn't moved forward with the idea, nor had he approached Alistair about it.

He looked at Alistair. The warrior was still flushed pink, chewing on his top lip and looking everywhere but at Leliana and Zevran. Sometimes he could be so painfully obvious.

"Well, we are ready to go," Leliana said, smiling. "We should go down by the docks and see when the next ferry is leaving for Amaranthine. They usually leave in the early morning or afternoon, so we have time, I imagine."

"How long is the trip?"

"It depends," Leliana said. "A week at the very least. More if the weather acts up." She smiled playfully. "I don't recall ever hearing about either of you being on a boat for long periods of time. Do you have your sea legs about you?"

"I doubt either have them have been on a boat long enough for it to matter," Zevran said with a chuckle.

"Oy, I will do just fine on a boat, thank you." Alistair frowned, his forehead creasing. "You two are always making fun of me."

"Only because you let it get to you," Thayer stated. He snorted. "Once you let it roll off your shoulders, it all becomes playful banter."

Zevran winked, sidling up close to Alistair. "I didn't know you were so sensitive, dear Alistair. I will remember your delicate sensibilities the next time I make a joke."

Alistair stepped back, making a face. "And remember to keep your distance, too, I hope."

"Come, come, you two, enough of that. We have a boat to catch." Leliana gestured toward the stairwell. "I must stay goodbye to Matthieu before we leave. I do not plan on returning for some time, and I will miss him dearly."

After saying their goodbyes to their grateful host the foursome traveled through the residential district and market toward the outskirts of the grand Orlesian city of Val Royeaux. The city's port was large, larger than any Thayer had ever seen before, though it paled in comparison to the breathtaking beauty that one found in the inner districts. Merchant ships, ferries, sailboats and more lined Val Royeaux's port, filling the boardwalk with lively conversation from their inhabitants. The port smelled strongly of fish—perhaps its only detracting quality in Thayer's opinion.

"Ah, there!"

Leliana hurried ahead of them toward the second dock down the line. There floated a somewhat large boat—almost the size of a ship. It was rectangular in shape, almost like a box, and dark brown in color, with a tan trim that ran around the rim of the boat. Several exhaust pipes lined its flat top, though none were bigger in size than Thayer himself. A man with weathered skin and coveralls stood beside it speaking with an elf furiously taking notes on a sheet of parchment paper.

Leliana approached him and gave a quick bow of her head. "Excuse me, sir, but your ferry is going to Amaranthine, correct? Are you preparing to leave?"

"Yes, yes, we are planning to leave very soon." His Orlesian accent was near indistinguishable from Leliana's. He looked at the elf. "We must make sure we do not let barnacles collect on the boat, they ruin the appeal!"

"How much to travel with you?"

The man continued to stare at his elf, all the while speaking at Leliana. "How far do you plan to travel?"

"To Highever."

"A trip to Highever takes a week, eight silver per person a day."

Leliana looked back at the group. The price was steeper than they had agreed upon spending, but it was a necessary evil to prevent them having to go all the way back from whence they'd come. To travel back around through southern Orlais and into Orzammar, then north to Highever would take far too long with all of the treacherous terrain.

"Are you coming or not?" The Orlesian asked. He snapped his fingers. "We must leave promptly—I have some time sensitive materials on the boat that must be delivered immediately."

"Yes, we're coming," Thayer called.

He followed after the man and the elf, feeling a bit rushed.

Upon entering the boat he stumbled forward slightly. It had been a while since he had stood on a boat, and it would take some getting used to. He couldn't imagine being on the boat for a week, but it was the best option. They had traveled through much worse conditions and had camped in nearly subzero temperatures. He was sure they could handle several days on a boat.

Or so he hoped, anyway.


	12. Aboard the Ferry

**Author's Notes: My chapters are working out shorter this time around than they usually are which is a bit obnoxious to me, but I'm just gonna go with the flow. It made sense to stop it with this scene because some..._interesting_ things take place, we'll say. :) **

**Sky: I often think about the mechanics of magic, or things of the like, when they relate to fiction as opposed to just video games. It wouldn't make sense to just say "Thayer activated his blood magic"-we'd all understand what I meant but the visual effect I feel is a lot stronger when it's dealt with in a realistic context. *nerds out* **

**KCousland: Leliana actually was more the focus of the plot at that time so I felt it redundant to give her a scene where she gets the gift, but rest assured, she got her lute! ;)**

**ashez: Oh, you know Zev. He always thinks everything involves kinky sex. I'd pay close attention to this chapter. LOL**

**I always love seeing what all of you say and what you think about the chapters! It's interesting to see how differently interpreted one piece of writing can get. Thanks for your reviews ^^ Please enjoy!**

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Thayer was getting awfully sick of being on a boat.

The boat's appearance was deceptive—though seemingly large and spacious on the outside, a vast portion of the inside was off limits or closed off. Only the middle level of the ship was at all open, save for the deck and the captain's quarters on the topmost level.

Their trip was nearly over, and for that, the mage was thankful. Doing his morning meditation on a constantly rocking boat—no matter how gentle the rocking was—had proven quite difficult. Not to mention that mealtime meant nausea, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. Thayer was glad that he hadn't decided to be a pirate or smuggler; living life on the sea was clearly not for him.

It didn't help any that they were in the dead of winter and that the sea air was horrifically cold. He had been able to handle it in Orlais thanks to the massive amounts of people. The number of bodies seemed to keep ambient warmth around the city that was lost once they went out to sea.

"Oh, bollocks."

Thayer lay on his bed, cooped up in the small cabin he had called home for the last several days. He stared out the small circular window at the land in the distance. Were they still in Orlais or had they passed into the Free Marches now? His sense of direction was poor. He supposed that was what happened when you spent most of your life in a tower by a lake.

This was boring. He knew he didn't want to go out onto the deck, lest he get seasick again. Plus it was far too cold to be out there for more than a few minutes, especially this early in the morning.

With breakfast not being served for another half hour, Thayer doubted any of his companions were awake. It didn't make much sense for _him_ to even be awake right now, but he'd been unable to fall asleep after a particularly disturbing dream where he had turned into a Hurlock and had rampaged through Denerim. On some level he knew that it was his simply a dream.

But the worst part was knowing that if he didn't find a way to reverse the Calling, he would eventually become one.

The thought made him shiver.

Thayer didn't want to be alone anymore, lost in his thoughts. So, still clad in his beige cotton sleepwear, the mage slipped out of his room and padded down the hallway toward Alistair's cabin.

He heard the other's steady snores through the wooden door. He fidgeted carefully with the handle to make sure it didn't rattle too much as he tugged it open and slipped inside.

Across the small room lay Alistair, the covers drawn almost completely over him. His snores pierced the blankets and filled the small cabin, causing Thayer to snigger under his breath.

The mage gingerly stepped across the cold wooden floor and lifted the covers, about to hop under, when he realized the distinct lack of space on the bed. He could push his way in, but that would only wake Alistair up and frustrate him, likely. The only option at this point was to crawl atop him and hope when he woke up that he didn't feel crowded.

Thayer leaned over and whispered in Alistair's ear. "Alistair. Oy. Alistair, wake up."

The warrior stirred, grumbled quietly and reached up to swat at his face. His eyes opened momentarily but he clearly wasn't fully awake yet. Thayer waited a moment longer before nudging the other man's shoulder.

"Love, wake up. It's me."

After several moments of incoherent murmuring, Alistair's eyes remained open for more than a few seconds. He gave Thayer a tired smile.

"What're you doing in here? Is this a lascivious midnight visit?"

"Not quite," Thayer replied with a faint smirk on his face. "It's not midnight. But this could be a lascivious visit. Mind if I join you?"

"By no means do I mind, good sir."

Alistair shifted several different ways to accommodate Thayer until the best option was found: he lay partially atop him, and partially atop the bed. It was somewhat awkward, but for now, it worked.

"Maker's breath, I hope we get to Highever today," Alistair muttered.

Thayer nodded, running his fingertips down Alistair's bare side. Part of his reason in coming in here had simply been an excuse to be close. For one, the dream had left him feeling distinctly uncomfortable. But more importantly, there had been very little private time for the two of them since getting on the boat, as someone always seemed to be awake. It was getting rather obnoxious.

"Me, too," Thayer agreed. "I'm done with feeling ill all the time. I'm not meant for the sea, this just proves it."

"Suppose we'll just cross land on our way from Higher to Amaranthine, then, hm?"

"I'd rather that than deal with another boat ride like this."

Alistair chuckled. He squeezed Thayer close. "Mm, well, I may have to convince you otherwise. I don't know if I can handle crossing any more land in the freezing cold. You know what Ferelden is like this time of year."

"Wild wolves couldn't convince me to ride on a boat again."

"Oh, really? And what would?"

Thayer sat up, looking down at the blond beside him. "Your tone just took an interesting turn. What did _you_ have in mind?"

A mischievous look overtook Alistair's face. "You tell me. You're the one who came into my bedroom early in the morning."

Thayer's fingers trailed further down Alistair's side, resting atop his hip. He followed the contour of the other's muscle and stopped just shy of his underwear. His eyes lit up with amusement.

"You realize it's been a couple of days."

Alistair closed his eyes. "As if you have to tell me."

The mage leaned in for a kiss. Alistair's warm lips felt wonderful against his own, more so now than ever before, if only because privacy was a luxury nowadays.

He pulled back, only to have Alistair bring him into another kiss. He chuckled against the other's lips but returned the fervor, allowing his hand to finally move in and cup Alistair's groin. The blond groaned and shifted.

"Have I ever told you that I love how bold you are?"

"Once or twice."

Thayer began to gently massage Alistair's manhood, kissing along his jaw line toward his neck. As he eased himself atop the other, the cabin door swung open.

There stood Zevran with an urgent look about him.

"The ferry is—oh, _my_."

Being caught in a compromising position was one of the last things Thayer had ever thought would happen to him, but what worried him more was that Zevran had seen it. Thankfully, most of what he was doing was hidden beneath the covers.

_Still, of all things_, he thought irritably.

"Damn it."

Alistair shifted nervously beneath him but Thayer held his place, craning his head to look at Zevran. They could worry about this indiscretion later.

"The ferry is what?"

"Smugglers," Zevran said, rubbing his throat. He craned his neck to the side.

Thayer draped the covers over Alistair's thigh when he caught sight of Zevran staring.

"What about them?"

"They're attempting to board the ferry. I went to rouse Thayer—"

"Did you find him—oh!"

Leliana appeared in the doorway but stopped abruptly at the sight of Thayer and Alistair in the bed.

She was clearly flustered. She cleared her throat and pointed over her shoulder. "If we hurry we can get to the deck and keep them from getting aboard."

"We'll—yes, just a moment—"

Alistair sputtered out several incoherent mutters as Leliana and Zevran exited the room, shutting the cabin door behind them.

When they were safely out of the picture he let out an incredulous grunt.

"Well, what an excellent way to start the day."

Thayer didn't push the topic, though he wasn't entirely sure if Alistair meant their discovery, the smugglers, or both. He climbed off of the blond and looked around. He needed to get dressed.

"Meet me on the deck in a minute," Alistair said. He stood up and reached for his gear. "Smugglers first, everything else later."

The mage nodded, already heading for the door to dress and gather up his staff. He robed up in less than a minute, and after holstering his Oak Branch he bolted from the door and down the hallway, taking the steps two at a time down to the deck landing.

Outside, the cold wind slashed his face and flooded inside his robes, stopping him in his tracks. When the initial shock wore off he caught sight of the smuggler ship sailing closely beside them. The men aboard were attempting to lift a wide plank to cross the space between them.

"What are they trying to get?" Leliana asked.

The captain of the ship shook his head furiously. "I have precious cargo below that I am carrying from Orlais, I cannot let them have it!"

"That doesn't explain what he has…" Zevran rubbed his eyes, then reached into his holsters to unsheathe his daggers. He gave them a whirl. "Why don't we let them board, hm?"

The captain's elven companion, who up until now had been completely silent, finally spoke up. His voice squeaked mid-sentence. "Why are you so eager to battle?"

Zevran ignored him, turning to Thayer, Alistair and Leliana. "What do you all think?"

"I've been itching for something to do on this ship. I say we show them just who they're messing with." Alistair held his sword at the ready, shield in front of him and a grin on his face.

"Let's turn the battle in our favor."

Thayer lifted up his staff, staring up at the sky. Storm clouds had already gathered, making a tempest that much easier. He closed his eyes and began swirling the tip of his staff at the collection of clouds, and bit by bit they darkened until completely black. Thunder crackled and lightning lit up the sky. Soon thereafter the clouds burst open and released harsh, brilliantly colored bolts upon the smugglers' ship.

The smugglers began to scream and yell, but did not attempt to avoid the bolts until they got the plank across the gap between the ships. Lighting rained down from above and connected in several places, causing shards of wood to fly through the air.

"Cross the plank!" said one of the smugglers, beginning to lead the group across, dagger held high above his head.

Alistair yelled out and raised his blade, storming the plank to block the incoming men. The leader with the dagger, a broad shouldered man wearing a red bandana, met his blade with a loud _clank_. He parried Alistair's next attack and went right for his side, only to be blocked by his rounded shield.

Two more men passed by Alistair and the smuggler leader, landing on the ferry deck. One wielded an axe and a wicked glare, and he found a target in Zevran, who drew him away from the starboard side of the boat. Leliana engaged the other man with her dagger, knocking him back with a quick jab of her blade.

The tempest continued to rage, blasting holes into the smuggler ship. With each moment longer it raged he felt his energy draining, but he couldn't give up focus. He needed to knock their ship out while his companions took care of the smugglers themselves. He could hear the screams and cries of surprise from the other passengers, as well as the sharp sound of blade against blade. He closed his eyes to keep himself focused, to keep connected to the storm clouds.

"Thayer!"

The sound of Leliana's voice from nearby broke his concentration and forced him to open his eyes. He threw himself back just in time to avoid a blade sweeping across his front. Another smuggler had appeared.

Thayer tripped over his robes and fell back hard onto the wooden deck. As his staff rolled away from him the storm clouds above them dissipated into the grey skies. He reached out to release a fireball at his assailant but his energy was taxed. All that appeared was a wisp of a flame, barely orange in color.

He prepared to roll out of the way.

"Die!"

That sounded like Alistair's voice. Thayer barely had time to blink before the warrior charged the man standing over him, bashing him hard enough with his shield to knock him back several yards. The smuggler crumpled to the ground and groaned loudly.

Alistair stood over Thayer, poised at the ready.

"Up you go, then!"

"Thank you!"

Thayer wasted little time standing up. He patted himself down, feeling for a lyrium potion. He always kept a small one on him somewhere. After a moment he found one in his breast pocket. He uncapped the phial and drank the liquid quickly. He felt only slightly less fatigued than before.

"Can you take out the rest of the ship?" Alistair asked.

"I can try."

"Aim for the sails!"

Thayer nodded. He looked toward the smuggler's ship, taking note of how much damage had been done and where. Somehow the sails had remained more or less untouched, which meant escape for any smugglers still left aboard.

He took a deep breath and looked around for his staff. He couldn't find it, but there wasn't time to continue looking. He needed to summon this storm and get the rest of the ship destroyed.

Thayer began rubbing his hands together, immediately feeling friction build between them. The faster he rubbed the quicker the friction built, until the power brimmed and vibrated in his grasp. He quickly threw the energy into the sky. The storm clouds gathered once again, dark and menacing, square above the smuggler's ship.

Thayer opened his eyes as the first crackling bolts of lightning appeared. He focused directly on the mast and imagined in his mind's eye a single bolt, strong enough to destroy the mast. Above them a loud _crack_ broke through the sky, and in a flash a bolt of lightning struck down at the base of the mast, sending a rippling fissure from one side to the other.

The storm continued to blast into the ship, up until the point where Thayer couldn't sustain it anymore. He lowered his hands and shook his head, taking in a deep breath.

Elemental magic was exhausting.

"And _stay_ down!"

Nearby, Zevran pushed a dazed smuggler overboard, sending him off with a rude gesture and a curt nod of his head.

"Any smugglers left?" Thayer asked.

"None over here," the assassin replied.

"Nor here." Leliana holstered her dagger and brushed herself off.

"Alistair?"

The warrior, who was standing nearby, lowered his blade and shield, turning around. He had a splattering of blood across his cheek.

"Got the last two."

Before any of them could speak further, the cracked mast took its last stand. After several moments of teetering back and forth from the wind, it finally fell forward, collapsing atop the deck and snapping into several pieces. The once-full sails were now torn, tattered and singed, flapping weakly in the air.

"Zevran, Leliana, let's move the plank into the sea."

Thayer stepped toward the thick slab of wood, leaning down slightly so he could press his shoulder against it. His companions soon joined in. Slowly but surely they moved the plank closer to the smuggler's ship until it had completely disengaged from the ferry. It fell into the water and sent up a geyser that splashed over the entire deck.

"I'm quite sure I'm tired of being on this boat," Thayer sputtered out.

He, Alistair, Leliana and Zevran spent the next several minutes gathering their bearings and cleaning up the mess on the deck. One by one the other passengers on the ship began to appear, looking frazzled and confused.

Once the captain surfaced Thayer went right for him.

"What cargo were they going for?"

"My silks! They wanted my silks!"

"Silks? _Silks_? All that for silk?" Alistair shook his head.

"It does not matter now, we are almost to Highever! We will land and there will be no problem, I will no longer have them." The captain cleared his throat. "Thank you, brave warriors! Your help is greatly appreciated."

Zevran smiled thinly. "Why thank you. Now, perhaps you'd be so kind as to share some of these silks? After all, we saved your ferry."

"Hm? Oh, oh! Why, yes, that is certainly feasible. When we arrive, I shall give you some."

Thayer folded his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side. This was interesting. What was Zevran getting at?

The assassin mouthed _money_ as if he'd read Thayer's mind.

Alistair stepped forward, scratching the back of his head. He looked somewhat anxious. "I hate to be one to bring this up, but is this little…thing, you know, going to upset breakfast? I'm starving."


	13. Arrival to Highever

**Author's Notes: I have to say, I haven't felt this invigorated by this story since toward the beginning when I was writing them heading into Orlais. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that they meet Fergus Cousland in this part, and I hold a very close attachment to the human noble origin. My second character, Eowyn, was a female noble who eventually went on to marry Alistair. That aside, having played almost all the origin stories, I felt the strongest connection to that one. I love the Couslands dearly as characters. I'm glad I got the chance to write one. :) **

**To my anonymous reviewer, there will be sexytimez in the future. Just not right now. XD I'm glad I made another convert, though! ;)**

**Please let me know what you all think, I had a lot of fun writing the first scene, so I hope you all enjoy it just as much. Haha! **

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Breakfast was tense that morning.

The majority of it was Thayer's own doing. Paranoid as he was, he kept expecting Zevran or Leliana to bring up what they had seen in Alistair's room, but neither did. In fact, both acted as if it had never happened.

Something about this felt deceptively relieving—after all, they weren't saying anything, so he could presumably infer they didn't think much of it. Then again, perhaps they were waiting to say something in private, between just the four of them. There were at least four other people at the dining table, all doing their own thing and randomly chatting amongst one another.

It didn't help any that Alistair seemed completely oblivious to how Thayer felt. The warrior was more concerned about eating than he was about ensuring things went over smoothly. Or maybe he just wasn't worried.

What had he said earlier? _Smugglers first, everything else later?_ Yes, that was it. Maybe Thayer needed to follow that logic. Everything else later.

When the time came for them to go back to their rooms and pack up, Thayer all but bolted from his seat and back into his cabin. He went about packing up his things, unaware of the fact that he had two people soon standing behind him.

He only noticed once he turned around, all but throwing his bag into the air. A burst of magical energy pulsed from him, causing the temperature to drop sharply. The effect was temporary.

"You two nearly gave me a heart attack."

Zevran and Leliana stepped into the room. Along the way in Leliana dragged Alistair behind her, who wore an anxious smile.

"All right, boys, you sit right there."

"Boys!" Thayer folded his arms over his chest. "I'm no boy."

"Very well, _men_. It is all the same. Sit, sit."

Once seated, Alistair opened his mouth to speak. Zevran cut him off.

"Ah-ah. We get to speak here. We're very curious."

"First, when?" Leliana asked.

"When what?" Thayer winced at their expectant eyes. There was no avoiding it now. This was 'the big moment'.

"Oh, very well. It was back in Orlais."

"Damn it."

"Damn what?"

"I lost the bet."

Zevran smirked, extending his hand, palm up, to Leliana. "Looks like your true love idea was behind the times, hm?"

"Wait a bloody second," Alistair interrupted. "You two bet on when we got together?"

Leliana grinned impishly. "Well, not exactly when you got together so much as how _long_ you've been together."

"That's twisted."

"That's _life_, my dear friend." Zevran pocketed the silver Leliana gave him. He wore a smug smirk. "I _knew_ something had changed about the way you two were interacting. I just didn't know why. And alas, now I do!"

"I suppose I should be glad to know our relationship was such a hot topic," Thayer said, confused. This was far from what he'd anticipated. "Were you two _really_ betting on this?"

"Oh, yes. We've always wondered if you were going to go after him, Thayer." Leliana smiled. "You think I couldn't tell, personally? The way you followed him and protected him during the fight with the archdemon? Against the broodmother?"

"Maybe I just loved him like a brother!"

"I doubt brothers sneak peeks at one another while one bathes in the lake near where we used to camp," Zevran said with a wink.

Alistair gawked. "Oy, you watched me bathe?"

Thayer flushed red. "Oh, shut it, like you mind now!"

"Well, back then!"

"Hey, wait a second." The mage raised an eyebrow. "Zevran, how did you know I was doing that?"

"It is an old habit of mine to pay very close attention to what goes on around me so I can use it to my full benefit." He shrugged. "I just happened to see you watching him bathe one time. I thought it interesting. Thought about asking if you wanted to join him, but I figured you would singe my hair, and I didn't want that." The elf smirked once more.

"Oh, this whole situation is far too strange," Thayer said. He shook his head. "We'd been meaning to tell you, we just—"

"Just what? Were you waiting for us to walk in on your lusty evening activities?"

"I think they were just waiting for the right time, Zevran," Leliana said. "After all, this is a big deal, hm? And I was _right_!"

"Right about what? You lost the bet," Alistair stated.

She beamed. "Yes, but! I knew you were not completely heterosexual."

Alistair blushed so deeply he looked short of breath. He ran his hand down his face.

"Suffice to say," Thayer began, "Obviously the truth is out there now. Alistair and I are together. We're quite happy."

"Oh, yes, it's noticeable." Leliana laughed. "You two are perfect for each other. Two halves to a whole."

Zevran frowned playfully. "Can it be two thirds to a whole? I would very much love to get in on that. Knowing that Alistair doesn't mind a big, strong man is doing wonderful things to my imagination. A warrior, rogue and mage walk into a bar…or should I say, a bedroom?"

Thayer groaned.

. . . . .

Thayer peered over the railing of the ferry. "Is that Highever?"

"Indeed it is. See that raindrop shaped statue with the spears across it? That's the symbol of Highever. They keep it at the dock so you know where you're pulling into," Alistair explained.

Thayer smiled and let out a sigh of relief. Ever since that morning and their impromptu fight with some smugglers he had been dying to get off the ferry. Solid ground was calling to him and his aching stomach.

The ferry pulled into the port several minutes later. Once they docked the captain appeared from his cabin above, his elven companion following behind him. The other passengers aboard surfaced from around the boat. One by one they all moved onto land.

Thayer took a few quick steps, eager to regain his normal balance. Being on the sea had thrown him for a loop.

"Oh, thank the Maker. Land!"

Zevran snorted. "You make it sound as if we were on that ferry for months."

"Felt that way just the same," Alistair mumbled. "I'll take solid land any day."

"Now, why am I not surprised you agree with one another, hm?"

"Oy, watch it."

Before leaving the captain, his elven companion and the other passengers behind, Thayer and his friends ensured they got their share of silks promised to them for their job well done protecting the ship. Their quality was surprisingly good—it was no wonder the smugglers had tried to steal them.

The foursome gathered outside one of the pubs along the dock. Pale moonlight shone from above, bathing everything around them in a silvery glow.

Thayer folded his arms over his chest. "All right, so who's going to guide us to the Teryn's castle?"

"We should probably wait until day breaks tomorrow," Leliana said. "I'm not sure the Teryn would appreciate us showing up at his castle after dark."

"Suppose we're in search of a place to stay for the night then." The mage scratched the back of his head and glanced around. There had to be an inn along the dock somewhere; it didn't have to be fancy. "Anybody see anything?"

Zevran pointed down the pathway to their right. "The last time I was here, I stayed at the inn above the Highrock Pub."

"Business or pleasure?" Alistair ventured.

"Mm, business, of course, with perhaps the _tiniest_ bit of pleasure."

Thayer smiled. "Well, then you lead the way, Zev."

The assassin elf guided the other three down the path and eventually to the front of a two story pub. Several people sat around at the small, round tables scattered about the entry, enjoying lively chatter and drinks. Zevran stepped past them and tugged on the thick brass handle on the arched wooden door of the pub, moving inside with the others.

After Zevran secured them a single room for the night, the four took to finding a table so they could enjoy a drink and something to eat.

"We've been to so many pubs I'm surprised I'm not drinking like a sailor," Thayer joked.

"You're quite the lightweight, Thayer. And it's probably not good for you to drink with such a sensitive stomach anyway." Zevran smirked. "You'd do best with a bit of water or ginger ale, hm?"

"Ha ha. Very funny."

While enjoying his drink and some potatoes Thayer thought briefly about how they were going to approach Teryn Cousland. Back home in Ferelden he knew he had much more power and influence than in Orlais, but thankfully no one had yet recognized him. Word of mouth had still traveled, however—several people around him were talking about the lack of darkspawn and how Denerim was rebuilding itself after the battle, among other things.

"So what kind of memorial are we going to request for Duncan?" Thayer asked.

Alistair shrugged his shoulders. "Well, a statue, ideally. Duncan did a lot for this nation and I think he deserves eternal recognition for it. Besides, Highever is probably the one place that could afford to do a statue for him, given the current state of things. Plus, he was born here."

"Where do you think it should go?" Leliana inquired. She leaned in toward the table. "They have that lovely courtyard in the market. Or rather, I hope they do. I haven't been in years."

"That sounds perfect." Alistair grinned. "You all really think Teryn Cousland will go for it?"

"It is all about sounding convincing." Zevran sipped at his drink. "Make him think he needs it, and he most certainly will."

. . . . .

"Well, if it isn't the slayer of the archdemon himself!"

Teryn Fergus Cousland approached Thayer from the seat behind his desk and brought him into a brief, but tight embrace. The dark haired man patted the mage upon the shoulders and gave him a wide grin. Fine lines creased the skin around his kind eyes.

"What an honor it is having you standing here before me. Tell me, what brings you and your entourage to Highever? We're pleased to have you!"

Thayer smiled, feeling strangely nervous. He'd stood before both the king and queen of Ferelden in the past and hadn't experienced this same sensation. Then again, he'd helped Anora _become_ queen after Cailan's death—he'd never even spoken to Teryn Cousland prior to this moment, nor had he aided him in any way. He supposed that was the primary reason, aside from the fact that he was about to ask for a considerable favor.

_Keep formal and confident_, he reminded himself.

"Well, your Grace, as you know, Alistair and I here were both conscripted into the Grey Wardens by Duncan, the Commander of the Grey. Given all that he did to help the Grey Wardens and Ferelden in general, we were hoping you would be kind enough to listen to a request we had."

Cousland returned to his seat, urging Thayer, Alistair and the others to do the same.

"Ask away."

"We wanted to have a memorial erected in his honor," Alistair stated. "A statue, possibly, to commemorate him as the strong and powerful man we knew him as."

The teryn leaned back in his plush, mahogany wood chair and stroked his goatee. "You've spoken with the queen about this, I'm assuming? Not that she'd have much say over what goes up in my territory, but."

"Queen Anora was quite fond of the idea, actually," Alistair insisted. "And I know that in times like these where recovery can be rough, having something to look up to is very encouraging."

"Why Highever?"

"He was born here." Alistair pursed his lips. "That's about as much as I found out from him before he was…killed. Surely you remember?"

"I don't," Teryn Cousland said. "Duncan was considerably older than me, closer in age to my parents. If he was born here, there may be others who know, but not I."

"Then all the better, right?" Thayer said, a thought quickly forming in his head. "It would do the people of Highever a lot of good to know that a man who eventually helped rid the world of the fifth Blight came from this terynir, considering the unfortunate loss it suffered with…well."

It seemed callous to mention the murder of the teryn's parents directly to his face, so Thayer trailed off there.

Teryn Cousland frowned, and a dark shadow crossed his face. He rubbed his eyes. "My people have seen a considerable amount of despair over the last two years. First the murder of my parents, and then my sister, Eowyn, followed by my own wife and son." He took in a deep breath. His shoulders slouched. "But you brought justice to Arl Howe, that maniacal bastard, and claimed Amaranthine for the Wardens."

He gave a melancholy smile. "For that reason alone, one could say I owe you a favor. You avenged my family better than I did."

Thayer shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He'd taken Arl Howe down for entirely different reasons, and yet, after finding that Howe had all but slain the entire Cousland family, discovering that he'd avenged them had helped him make peace with his decision.

"We ask no return of a favor," Thayer began, "just a remembrance of the man who made it all possible."

"Very well." Cousland sat back up again, resting his forearms atop his large desk. "Were it not for Duncan, who knows where we would be now." Though he smiled, it seemed somewhat hollow, distant—the smile of a man who had lost much.

"Thank you, your Grace. We had something we wanted to offer to help with the funding, if possible." Thayer turned to Zevran, who retrieved a piece of the beautiful silk offered to them by the ferry captain.

"Ah, so that is why you wished for me to bring this along? I see." Zevran handed it over with a curt nod.

Thayer offered the fine fabric to the teryn, who took it graciously.

"This will sell for a pretty pence at the market. We've been seeing a lot of visitors from Ostwick up in the Free Marches, and they love embroidery from Orlais. This is of Orlesian make, correct?"

Thayer nodded. "We came from Orlais not long ago. Alistair and I spoke with the Orlesian Wardens and learned how to perform the Joining so we can begin rebuilding our order in Amaranthine."

"How admirable…"

The teryn trailed off, turning his chair around to stare out the large window scaling the vast majority of the back wall. Outside was a beautiful scene of the now peaceful Waking Sea and the clear sky above it. He moved to stand.

"He visited us once, you know."

Thayer and Alistair shared a look.

"Duncan?" the warrior asked.

"Mm-hmm. He came to us a week or so before the battle at Ostagar. I was just about to leave for a scouting mission. He and my sister shared a verbal sparring match. It was interesting, actually. I daresay he would have tried recruiting her, had she not been killed."

Cousland lowered his head.

To Thayer's surprise, Leliana stepped forward, approached Teryn Cousland and placed a hand on his shoulder. She gripped it with a comforting look in her eyes.

"You have lost much, your Grace. But I'm sure your people are grateful for your resolve."

Thayer and his companions watched curiously as Leliana boldly brought the teryn into a hug. Most surprising was the fact that he hugged back. When they pulled apart, he turned back toward the window, gripping the fabric tighter in his hands.

"Will you all be in Highever long? Or must you get to Amaranthine right away?"

"We had planned on leaving for Amaranthine soon," Thayer said. "But if you would like us to stay, your Grace—"

"No, no, it's quite all right. I will have my architect draw up some plans for a statue and have a courier take them to Amaranthine once completed so that you may see."

Teryn Cousland turned around, and with one more deep breath seemed to regain his composure and his confidence. He smiled, wholly this time, before approaching Thayer once again. This time, however, he only reached out and took the mage's hand in his own, cupped his other one over the two and shook firmly. The silk fabric rubbed against his skin.

"It was good having you in Highever, Warden." He cocked his head to the side. "Rather, I suppose I should call you Warden-Commander now? Or you?" He turned to Alistair.

Alistair blanched. He pointed at Thayer. "Oh, no, not me. Not me at all. Him."

_Warden-Commander._

The title that had once belonged to Duncan. Thayer wasn't quite sure what he thought of the name, but he supposed that was who he was now. He and Alistair alone would be responsible for rebuilding of the Grey Wardens—those in charge of a new order of men.

That meant he was officially the Fereldan Commander of the Grey.

"Thank you, your Grace. We appreciate your kindness."

"Oh, think nothing of it, Warden-Commander." Cousland grinned. "Now, go whip Amaranthine back into shape."


	14. Vigil's Keep

**Author's Notes: To begin, I'd like to say that as of this chapter, _THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR DRAGON AGE: AWAKENING_. If you haven't played the game and do not want to be spoiled, I wouldn't suggest reading further. If you don't mind being spoiled, read on! If you've already played, then yay! You can read without incident. ;) **

**As we go into Awakening, I want to make it clear that I don't plan on giving a full on retelling of the expansion. Some things I'll expand upon, and other things I'll allude to or just leave out completely. I want this to remain my writing predominantly but it's impossible not to have the expansion influence it, as rebuilding the Wardens is one of the primary things of Awakening. **

**Elizabeth-chan: Zevran is definitely one of my favorite characters-I love him to death. Well, him and Alistair, of course. :)**

**Enjoy, everyone! Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I have chapter sixteen almost done, and am re-reading chapter fifteen to get it all up and running. Let me know what you think!**

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The journey to Amaranthine was short, totaling just under three days. Despite his personal distaste for boats Thayer gave in, and the foursome took one along the coastline in order to help them bypass the mountainous terrain along the way from Amaranthine to Highever.

Upon their arrival in the arling Thayer and the others were immediately greeted by a young guide named Mhairi. She alone was the one who would lead them to Vigil's Keep, about three days south of the city Amaranthine. Interestingly enough she had been recruited into the Wardens but had not yet undergone the Joining.

Thankfully for them all the weather was proving to be amicable. Winter would be giving way to spring soon—Thayer could feel it in the air. The sun shone above them and provided them with a relatively warm trip south. The biting cold did not come until after the sun had set in the west just before their arrival at Vigil's Keep.

Darkness enveloped the pathway winding up the hill toward the keep. Mhairi, who up until now had been quite cheerful, suddenly fell somber.

"Where are the other Wardens?" she murmured. "I was told they would meet us here."

"Far be it from me to announce bad news, but that seems like a considerable amount of smoke for a keep."

Zevran pointed ahead of them. In the distance, pillars of smoke billowed through the air. Wisps and pieces of ash flew up into the sky, casting a blanket of darkness over the starry night sky.

"Something's amiss," Alistair said worriedly. "We need to check it out."

The group of five moved further up the hill in search of the keep. They soon came to a stop outside the main gate, where the carnage became more visible. Crops burned, bodies lay everywhere. Something—or someone—had ambushed the keep.

Before Thayer had a chance to say anything, a red haired man in armor came stumbling past the gates. He was soaked in blood and yelling incoherently. When he turned his attention in front of him he saw the group, tripped, and then fell face first onto the ground beneath them.

Leliana gasped. "Darkspawn!"

Running past the gate was a group of Hurlocks—three, maybe four.

Thayer couldn't believe his eyes. How were there _darkspawn_ up here?

"Fight!" he proclaimed, retrieving his staff and sending a blast of flames at the nearest Hurlock.

With Mhairi on their side the fight took very little time. She and Alistair took down one more of the monstrosities with a tag-team blow of their blades, while Leliana, Zevran and Thayer engaged what remained. Soon several corpses were added to the scene, either decapitated or charred.

"How in the _hell_ are there darkspawn up here?" Alistair groaned. "We defeated the archdemon. They should all be gone now!"

"We can ask questions later," Thayer said. "Right now, we need to get inside the keep and figure out what's going on. This isn't good by any means!"

Thayer led his four companions through the main entrance and into the keep's courtyard. Destruction lay all around them—dilapidated houses, burning carts, dead bodies. It was a complete disaster. This could only have been an ambush.

But darkspawn didn't ambush…

There was barely a chance to breathe before more darkspawn appeared. They climbed out from every dark corner, appeared on the catwalks along the keep, and some even stepped right out of the buildings they had just destroyed.

A horrific roar came from a nearby building. From around it appeared an ogre, large and menacing, its red eyes gleaming. He knocked a Genlock out of his way as he started to charge toward the group.

"I'll take care of him!" Alistair said, sword held high. He let out a battle cry and all but jumped at the oncoming ogre, digging his blade deep into the beast's flesh.

Each member of the group found a target in a new darkspawn that came at them. Thayer engaged a Hurlock with a spattering of electric energy when he heard a frightened yelp from nearby. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a man with two Genlocks cornering him.

"Take care of these!" he shouted at his companions, hopping over the Hurlock's corpse and heading to help the man in danger.

With several quick rotations of his staff, Thayer sent a shockwave at the two darkspawn that knocked them off their feet. Their weapons fell from their hands and skittered across the ground.

"Run!" Thayer told the cowering man.

As the survivor sputtered out and stumbled away, the darkspawn stirred and scrambled to their feet. Before they were able to reach their weapons Thayer froze them both with a blast of ice. With two well-aimed bashes of his staff the darkspawn broke into pieces.

He turned back around and ran back toward his companions. Alistair and Mhairi together had just taken down the ogre, but Leliana and Zevran were dealing with a large group of Shrieks. Despite the flurry of their blades the beasts refused to fall.

"Watch out!" Thayer shouted.

He pointed his staff at one of the Shrieks, and from the nearby ground lifted a large chunk of earth. It hit the Shriek and knocked it back onto the ground; Leliana stabbed it in the chest.

After the last of the Shrieks were taken down, Thayer and the others regrouped. All were covered from head to toe in darkspawn blood and guts. The stench was overwhelming—the mage had forgotten how hard it was to breathe when fighting these creatures.

"This is absolute madness," Alistair said with a cough. "Where are these darkspawn coming from?"

"I don't know," Mhairi said. She was visibly upset, her hands balled into fists. "The Wardens should have felt the darkspawn coming. How did they not?"

"How many were there?" Thayer asked.

"At least a dozen from Orlais. Not many, but enough."

That was disconcerting. Thayer and Alistair shared a concerned look. Why had Wardens from Orlais come, knowing that the two of them were going to take care of things?

"More answers are sure to be within," Zevran said.

Thayer holstered his staff. "Let's continue on, then. Everyone ready?"

Everyone nodded. All together they moved toward the inner gate. Darkspawn continued to pour out of every nook and crevice, continuing to fall at the hands of the group. Once they reached the inside of the keep they were met with yet more darkspawn. The constant onslaught had exhausted them—not having to deal with the repeated attacks had softened them considerably.

They took a moment to regroup just inside the gate. Thayer tended to a few wounds, helping to close surface cuts and stop some bleeding.

"Bad form," Alistair muttered. "I forgot what it was like battling darkspawn."

"Love has turned you soft," Leliana teased. Before Alistair could respond she said, "Thankfully we are all together. This could have been much more dangerous had it just been two or three of us."

Thayer wished Wynne were here. Her healing abilities far surpassed his own, and made these battles all the more bearable. While lyrium potions and poultices eased the burden, there was nothing quite like the warm touch of magic.

"Where to next?" he asked, looking around them.

Mhairi shook her head. She pointed over toward a set of stairs. "We should work our way up through the keep. The second level over there leads deeper in."

Thayer led the group up the stairs and stopped briefly at the door due to a surprised shout he heard on the other side. Were there other survivors?

He kicked open the door, only to catch sight of a man with his hands ablaze. A rush of fire shot from him and burned a nearby darkspawn to a crisp.

The man shook his hands and turned around, stepping back in surprise at the sight of the group.

"Er…I didn't do it."

After seeing that several human bodies were among those on the ground behind this new mage, Thayer kept his hands at the ready and asked, "And just who the hell are you?"

"My name is Anders," the man said with a smile. "Mage and wanted apostate, at your service."

Mhairi stepped forward. "An apostate? At Vigil's Keep? That doesn't seem right."

Anders raised his eyebrows. "Aren't you a pretty little thing? You weren't here when we arrived, I'd have remembered you—"

"You were saying," Thayer interrupted.

"Oh. Oh, right." Anders laughed. "Me and my temporary companions here were just stopping by here on our way back to the Circle Tower. Suppose we aren't going to make it now. What a shame." He gave a loud sigh. "No justice for me, sadly."

"Were those men _Templars_?" Alistair asked. "Did you _kill _them?"

"I didn't kill them, the darkspawn did! As for them, there really was no way of proving they were Templars, now is there?" He looked back at the pile of bodies.

Alistair remained silent, gritting his teeth.

"Tell you what." Anders rubbed his hands together. "I'll help you through here and we can talk about all of this later. What do you say?"

Despite the uncertainty that Thayer felt about this man and what had happened in the room, it was undoubtedly true that they needed any help they could get. While there were five of them total, having another mage to help attack from a distance would be invaluable.

He looked from Alistair to Leliana, Zevran and then Mhairi. They all looked back, waiting for him to make the decision.

Thayer turned to Anders and nodded. "Fine, come with us and help us. But this,"—he pointed to the bodies—"isn't quite over yet."

"Well, goody! At least I know we'll have something to talk about along the way."

Was that sarcasm?

. . . . .

"All right, we'll take a moment here to recuperate and then we'll blast through this room and go further up. These darkspawn seem so much…" Thayer didn't want to say it. "They seem so much _smarter_ than usual. Their battling skills have almost gotten _better_."

Anders, who was currently healing a wound on Leliana's leg, murmured in agreement. "When I was brought into the holding cell by those Tem—those _men—_the darkspawn stormed the room and one kept watch at the door to ensure nobody escaped. It was very creepy."

"Smarter darkspawn. Great, just what we needed." Alistair rested his blade against the wall, leaning his back against it. "Why don't we just give them our swords and let them take over the nation? They're certainly trying hard enough."

"Don't say that," Mhairi said. She shook her head. "We can't give up. You all took down the archdemon. You can handle these darkspawn."

Zevran snorted. "So much for having a peaceful moment to enjoy being the cream of the crop. Can we just go back to Orlais?"

"Do you _want_ to be knocked out again?" Thayer asked bluntly, though a faint smirk came to his lips.

"Only if you are naked above me afterward, dear friend."

Thayer chose to ignore that. He looked at the door. "All right, let's go."

He kicked the door open like so many before and rushed inside. On a split level just in front of them was a dwarf surrounded by darkspawn. He wielded an axe bigger than him, and when he turned around, Thayer almost fell over.

"It's Oghren!" Alistair exclaimed.

After chopping a darkspawn in half at the waist with one side of his axe Oghren turned toward the group, offering an excited wave. But soon thereafter he focused again on the darkspawn, single handedly knocking out three more with his gargantuan weapon.

New darkspawn poured in from one of the other doors nearby, and the battle was on again. Thayer raised his staff to attack an oncoming Hurlock when a Shriek appeared out of nowhere, knocking his weapon from his hand and slashing into his forearm with its long, sharp claws. He cried out and jumped back. Gouges from Shrieks _burned_—Maker, did they burn—and for a brief moment he was disoriented by the pain. It didn't help any that the beast let out a ghastly screech which pulsed through his head and stung his ears.

He could attack without his staff. When things calmed down he would look for it again. For now he focused on the Shriek, and with a wave of his hand he imagined it freezing in place, paralyzed—one of the only useful spells he'd ever wanted to learn from Morrigan.

The Shriek froze in mid-swipe, its gaping mouth dripping with saliva.

Thayer looked down at the searing gash on his forearm. He was bleeding profusely. Stepping back, he took the precious moment to try and heal himself. But within a few seconds the Shriek's body was beginning to shift and twist. The creature was fighting the paralysis.

He needed immediate action. He needed to kill the Shriek, and fast.

With no more than a moment's thought to it, Thayer wiped his hand over the blood dribbling down his arm and then pointed his hand at the Shriek. He summoned a fireball but was blasted back by the sheer force of it. All that was left in the place of the darkspawn beast was a pile of ash. Thayer couldn't believe his eyes.

"What the hell just happened?" he heard Alistair say from a distance.

"Maker only knows!" Thayer replied hurriedly.

That had been a close call. Alistair continued fighting as if nothing had happened, as did the others. Thayer made especially sure that before he went back into the battle that he'd completely closed the gashes on his arm with a healing spell. He didn't want to be tempted to use that power again—not with the watchful eyes of his companions.

But it had been such an exhilarating sensation…

Thayer shook his head. After a few more well-aimed blasts of flames and frost from him and Anders and the skillful blade work of the others, the felled darkspawn no longer posed a threat.

Oghren ran toward the railing along the upper level, grinning from ear to ear.

"_There_ you are. Been lookin' all over for you! I knew you'd be in here somewhere. Where there's darkspawn, the new Commander can't be too far behind. We're gonna have these darkspawn spittin' teeth out of their arses in no time."

"Ew," Anders and Mhairi said in unison.

"Oghren, what're you doing here?" Thayer couldn't help but smile. They hadn't been the closest of friends, but the dwarf had been a loyal companion and an excellent fighter.

"Thought I'd try my hand at bein' a Grey Warden," Oghren replied with a grunt. He hoisted himself up and over the bar, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. "I miss the thrill of the battle. Knew wherever you went the battles'd follow, so why not?"

"It's like a reunion of sorts," Leliana said cheerfully.

"You know this dwarf?" Mhairi asked, tone mildly incredulous. She furrowed her brow.

Oghren gave her a once over. "Well, well, well! If it ain't the recruit with the nice rack. I was hoping I'd see you here again."

Mhairi flushed. "Still being inappropriate as always, I see."

"Good to see you other guys, too," Oghren said to Zevran, Leliana and Alistair. "Glad to know you didn't get killed back in that sissy nation."

"We could use another fighter. We're getting winded," Thayer admitted. His own energy was starting to deplete—he'd used quite a bit of magic for the day, but he knew they had a long way to go. He couldn't give up now.

"I'd be glad to join ya. Lemme get my axe!"

While Oghren retrieved his weapon, Thayer looked around for his own. After the Shriek knocked it from his hand he didn't think to look where it went. He found it over near the foot of some stairs leading to the upper level, and what he saw horrified him.

"My staff!"

Somehow it had managed to snap into pieces. From the looks of it, something heavy had stepped on it, breaking not only once, but twice—one piece sat atop the bottom step, while the other two lay haphazardly upon the wooden floor.

_How _hadn't he heard it break? How hadn't he _felt_ it?

This was terrifying. Thayer felt a cold numbness seeping through his veins. He rushed over to where his staff lay broken and gingerly picked up one of its pieces.

To his surprise, Anders came close, reached down and picked up one of the pieces.

"Oh, mate, this is horrible. Your staff…"

Only another mage could understand what he was going through right now. In a way, he was strangely glad Anders was there—he needed someone who could grasp how horrible this situation was. Losing his staff was like losing a piece of himself.

Alistair also came close, but instead of grasping the staff he took hold of Thayer's shoulders and helped him to stand. Thayer leaned into him and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, love, that's…"

But he didn't say anything more. Thayer was glad he didn't. Right now, he didn't want words. He just wanted his damn staff back.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Zevran began, voice somewhat quiet at first, "but if we do not continue on, there is a _very_ strong chance more lives will be lost."

Thayer knew he couldn't sit and mope about the loss of his weapon. Still, it was painful to see his faithful staff lying before him in several pieces. He opened his eyes, cleared his throat and pulled away from Alistair.

"Let's continue on."

. . . . .

Things only proceeded to grow more depressing throughout their journey of Vigil's Keep. Shortly after leaving the room where Oghren was, the group encountered a dying Grey Warden named Rowland who made mention of a strange darkspawn with the ability to speak. After they deduced there was nothing they could do for him, they continued to battle their way through the keep.

Eventually they came out onto a large walk path that wrapped around one of the towers of the keep. Thayer could hear voices in the distance, but before he had a chance to discern what they were, Oghren moved ahead and yelled, "More darkspawn!"

Thayer groaned. "Oghren, come back here!"

He and the others chased after the dwarf, coming to a sudden stop at the sight of several darkspawn holding a man hostage.

"The seneschal!" Mhairi exclaimed.

The seneschal was on his knees with a blade held flush against his throat. Standing before him was a darkspawn emissary with a wicked look on his face.

"What you say is true, human. Here are more."

"Maker, it _is_ talking!" Anders sounded as equally curious as horrified.

Oghren lifted his axe and gave it a priming swing. "Can we shut it up already?"

"Capture the Grey Wardens," the emissary said to his followers. "Kill the others."

Before Thayer had a chance to prime an attack, the darkspawn emissary cast a spell on him that trapped him in place. At first he thought he was paralyzed, but as pressure began building in around him, he realized it was much more than that.

"Break his concentration!" Thayer groaned out. "He's crushing me!"

There were four other darkspawn present at the time, which should have been little trouble; they numbered seven in opposition. But within his line of sight Thayer could see Anders in a position very similar to him—apparently this darkspawn had both of them in its grasp.

Debilitating the mages was a smart move…

Mhairi rushed by Thayer and went right for the emissary, digging her blade deep into his leg. Despite this debilitating blow Thayer was not released from the spell. It only continued to tighten around him, making it hard to breathe. He tried calling out again, tried moving just the slightest, but nothing was happening. It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus. Each breath he took in forced more pressure to coil around him, almost like a snake.

As his focus began to wane, the scenery around him grew dark, until it disappeared entirely.


	15. A Warrior Lost

**Author's Notes: **Hi everyone! Here's chapter fifteen of the story. :) I ran into a bit of writer's block and am doing the same thing here...I have a feeling I know why, but I'll drudge through it! This story shall be written! Sorry it took so long but hopefully it was well worth the wait! Please remember to review and let me know what you think!

* * *

_He's not awake._

_He'll be fine, he's just—_

_He's been under for nearly ten minutes, someone wake him _up_!_

Thayer groaned. He could hear voices around him; they seemed to be coming from a distance. In a way it felt as if they were inside his head.

_He's got to come out of it on his own, leave him be!_

When Thayer was finally able to come to, the mage shifted slightly, feeling an ache in his bones. Every inch of his body was sore. Ridiculous.

_He's waking up!_

In a sudden flash of light everything began moving back into focus. Thayer saw Alistair's handsome face staring down at him, and around him were Leliana, Zevran and Oghren.

"I told you. Entropic magic you can't mess with—you just have to recover."

"Oh, shut it, apostate."

"Alistair, please," Thayer muttered. He gave a quiet grunt and moved to sit up. He felt a hand behind his back help guide him up. It must have been Alistair.

"Thayer, do you feel all right?" Leliana asked.

"I'll be fine. I just need a moment."

Thayer looked up and saw Anders' face—he wore a cross expression. Thayer knew exactly why: it never felt good to have someone throw your opinion aside like that.

"He's right, you know," the mage continued. "It was entropic magic. Very powerful magic. That was a frighteningly strong darkspawn."

"You're tellin' us," Oghren grunted. "It took four of us to take that bastard down."

"Something wasn't right about him," Alistair said gravely. "Darkspawn don't _talk_."

"He's our biggest concern currently."

Thayer looked up and around at the new voice. His eyes met with a tall, broad-shouldered man with greying hair. He was the man they had saved—the seneschal.

"I'm Seneschal Varel. Thank you for saving me." He gave a bow of his head, then looked over the side of the curtain wall.

He turned back to the others. "I don't mean to cut the introductions short, but we've got soldiers approaching. Hopefully they're more hospitable than our previous guests…"

With the help of Alistair and Leliana, Thayer moved to stand so the group could greet the soldiers down below. The trek through Vigil's Keep was rather quick thanks to a shortcut shown to them by the seneschal, and upon their arrival, they were met with the familiar face of the queen of Ferelden.

"My apologies, it appears as if we've arrived too late to offer any assistance. I'd intended to greet you properly when I heard you were coming back from Orlais. What is the current situation, Commander?"

_Commander_. Thayer wasn't sure when he would get used to hearing that.

"It's not pretty, your Majesty," he began.

"If I might, commander?" Varel asked. He turned to Queen Anora. "Few, if any, darkspawn remain, and if they do, they have likely fled. No Wardens remain from Orlais. They're either missing or gone completely."

"Wait, missing? As in taken by the darkspawn?" Anora pursed her lips. "Do these creatures take prisoners? I thought they were barely sentient."

"I do not know, your Majesty. All I know is that not all of the Wardens are accounted for."

Anora turned to Thayer. She sighed quietly. "You've quite the task ahead of you. I'll offer whatever support I can, but I fear it won't be enough. It seems you will be mostly on your own."

"What are we, chopped liver?" Oghren asked with a growl. "I came here to help out and join the Wardens. Need me to gargle and spit? I can do it!"

Thayer snorted. "You're welcome among us, Oghren. You know that."

"Well, smack my ass and call me Sally! I'm in!"

"Him, a Warden? That ought to be priceless," Anders said.

Before Anders had a chance to say anything else the woman standing beside Queen Anora stepped forward.

"Your Majesty, beware! This man is a wanted criminal! He's an apostate we were in the process of returning to the Circle. He deserves swift justice!"

"What you know about justice could fit on the head of a pin," Anders grumbled. "What does it matter? I've escaped before, and I'll escape again."

"We'll never allow that to happen, murderer! You will face retribution!"

Anders looked at Thayer and sighed. "Well, it was nice knowing you for all of ten minutes. Suppose I'll have to get back to the Circle now."

The soldiers began to advance but stopped at Thayer's sudden exclamation.

"Wait!"

Queen Anora, Alistair and all the others turned to look at him. Thayer focused on Anders.

"I hereby conscript this mage into the Grey Wardens."

"What?" the woman cried. "No! Never! I won't allow this!"

"You haven't much choice, Rylock," Anora stated. "After all, the Wardens still hold the Right of Conscription. I must permit it."

Rylock pulled back, expression strained. "If you feel it best, your Majesty…"

Anora ignored her, returning her attention to Thayer. "You have quite a bit of work ahead of you, Commander. Keep your chin up. You defeated the archdemon, so this should be no more difficult. Good luck."

"Thank you," Thayer said. "Keep us updated on the state of the nation. If we can provide any help, let us know."

"I daresay you'll be spending enough of your energy on rebuilding Amaranthine, but your concern is appreciated." Anora smiled briefly. "I must take my leave now. Good luck."

. . . . .

"Now, before we attend to any more business, Commander, it's vital that we get more Grey Wardens in your ranks."

Thayer nodded. "I couldn't agree more, Seneschal. Alistair and I went to Orlais to learn from the Wardens there on how to perform the Joining."

"Ah, well! I suppose you won't need my assistance in the matter, then?"

"If you could gather the necessary tools," Alistair said, "we'd be greatly appreciative."

"One step ahead of you."

Seneschal Varel disappeared momentarily while rummaging through a small storage room within the throne room of Vigil's Keep. When he returned, he had all of the necessary pieces for the Joining, save for one piece:

"Donor's blood.

Each of you will need to offer some of your blood in order to perform the Joining successfully."

Seneschal Varel set all of the tools upon a wooden table just in front of the throne. He ushered Mhairi, Anders and Oghren forward. Thayer and Alistair also stepped forth.

"Commander, if you please."

Thayer paused. Though he knew this very moment would be coming for quite some time, having it here, now, made him feel rather intimidated. He knew he'd grown into his role as a leader during the Blight, and that this was only an extension of that. Still, having several people's lives in his hands was incredibly daunting.

He looked briefly at Alistair. "Do you mind saying the…"

"Hm? Oh, no. Not a problem." Alistair cleared his throat. As Thayer began preparing the goblet for Oghren, the warrior said, "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you."

The noxious odor of the concoction overtook the room but nobody said a word. Thayer offered the goblet to Oghren, who, after offering up some of his own blood, guffawed at the portion offered to him.

"You tryin' to say somethin' about my size, Thayer? I could drink three times this much!"

"That's the right amount," Thayer said. "Drinking any more could be deadly."

"Yeah, yeah, if you say so."

Oghren drank from the goblet. After a few seconds he offered a loud belch. "Mm. Not bad."

"Maker help us," Varel said with a shake of his head.

That Oghren survived was a relief to everyone who knew him. Thayer gave quiet thanks before preparing the chalice for Anders. When the time came for him to offer up his blood, the newer mage chuckled.

"As if I don't drink enough of my blood when I get roughed up by Templars."

"Actually," Thayer began, "if you could provide a little extra, we can use it for Mhairi as well."

"It doesn't have to be just our own, then?"

"No, only the same species."

Anders turned his head to Mhairi and gave her a wink. "Looks like there'll be a little bit of me in you after all, hm?"

Mhairi tried to appear nonplussed, but disgust was visibly cracking through the façade.

Anders hanged his bleeding finger over the goblet for a few seconds longer than Oghren did, and soon the noxious scent once again filled the air. Anders sipped from the goblet, but not too long thereafter his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fainted. Thayer managed to grab the goblet before he went down.

"Is he dead?" he asked in concern.

The seneschal approached Anders and carefully listened to his heartbeat. "No, he yet lives, Commander. It may be some time before he awakens, however."

"Two out of three, that's excellent luck." Alistair smiled. "Let's hope for a perfect three out of three."

Thayer smiled, but deep down, he felt anxious. Having two people within a group of several pass through the Joining without incident wasn't unheard of, but after his own Joining, as well as having heard about Alistair's, he knew that the darkspawn taint wasn't kind.

Mhairi was tough, however. She had proven her worth and was more than capable of being a Warden. Thayer crossed his fingers in his head, taking in a quick breath prior to offering her the goblet. He hoped she knew what she was getting in to.

"How I have awaited this moment," she said, dipping back the goblet and swallowing the concoction inside.

Mhairi handed back the goblet to Thayer. For a moment, much like Oghren, she remained standing.

"Seems as though it—"

Mhairi stopped speaking mid-sentence. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she began to cough. Soon she fell to her knees, clutching at her throat.

Thayer moved forward to help her but Alistair gripped his upper arm to stop him. The look in his eyes said _You can't._

Mhairi released her throat and continued coughing violently. She collapsed on the ground, struggled for a moment, and with her last breath reached out toward Thayer. Her body soon stilled as the last vestiges of her spirit left her body.

Silence fell upon the room. Thayer balled his hands into fists. He needed to keep composed.

"I am sorry, Commander, but she did not make it." Seneschal Varel pulled away from Mhairi's body and moved to stand.

"Maker watch over her," Alistair prayed.

"Two outta three ain't bad," Oghren said cheerfully. "And hey, you got two damn good recruits!"

"It's a good start," Varel said.

"Don't forget, you have us, as well!" Zevran said, pointing to him and Leliana. "We will find you recruits."

Thayer looked down at Mhairi's lifeless body and sighed.

He knew death was expected in this line of work. But that didn't make it any more bearable.

. . . . .

Thayer and his companions spent the rest of the evening getting settled into their respective rooms throughout the living quarters of Vigil's Keep. The location had remained untouched by the darkspawn, likely due to the fact that they were a good distance away from the interior of the keep itself.

As Warden-Commander, Thayer took over the bedroom that once belonged to Arl Howe during the Orlesian occupation. The room itself was large by most standards—significantly larger than any room Thayer had ever lived in. It reminded him of the room he stayed in at Arl Eamon's estate in Redcliffe. Much of the furniture was aged wood, with a desk in the right-hand corner, a four-poster bed on the wall across from the bedroom door, and a rather large armoire with a vanity sitting against the left side. In the middle sat a round table and chairs. Bookshelves littered the rest of the open space against the walls, giving the room an intimate feel. A lone fireplace stood in the corner near the entry, emanating warmth throughout the interior.

With his and Alistair's relationship now out in the general public, Thayer felt comfortable asking Alistair to room with him. To nobody's surprise, Alistair agreed.

Being in the room of a man who had once tried to kill him should have bothered him more than it did. At the moment all he could think about was Mhairi's death.

He lay down atop the soft goose-down comforter, surprised to find that they weren't nearly as musty as he'd anticipated.

"I wonder if they wash these regularly," Thayer mused aloud.

Alistair was in the process of removing his clothes so that he could slip into bed as well. "Why, do they stink?"

"No, the opposite. It's…strange."

"Somehow, I didn't think that would be the thought on your mind right now." Alistair chuckled. "Only you would think about the way something smells."

"You remember that I spent the majority of my life in a tower. Sensorial things like this catch my attention very easily."

Alistair took a seat on the bed and removed his socks. Afterward he moved to lie back, rolling onto his side so he could speak to Thayer face to face.

"Are you doing all right?" he asked softly.

"I'm all right. Just…disappointed, I reckon would be the right way to put it. Mhairi was a good warrior. She wanted to be a warden so badly."

"Yes, well, that's the risk one takes when they join the ranks." He reached out and stroked his fingers over Thayer's shoulder and arm. "Not everyone we recruit is going to survive, love. You need to know that."

Thayer frowned. "Yes, I know, but that doesn't mean I have to be steely and heartless about it." When Alistair made a face, he amended his words. "I'm sorry, I'm not saying that you are. Just that…well, it's not quite fair."

"Life isn't." Alistair closed his eyes. "But we knew that, right?"

The mage moved closer, gripping the other's arm and draping it over his waist. "I'd say right now, Mhairi aside, life is treating us rather well. We've got Oghren back, a new mage and several other people who will help us in our quest to rebuilding the Order. And it couldn't have come at a better time, apparently…"

"Ugh, that _mage_."

The distaste in Alistair's voice gave Thayer pause. He raised an eyebrow. "'That _mage_'?"

Alistair flushed red. He closed his eyes for a moment. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, yes you did. And now you need to elaborate."

"I just…he's so _cocky_. His attitude is poor. He reminds me of how I felt about Zevran at first."

"And what happened there?"

"I _still_ don't like him." Alistair smirked.

"He'll grow on you. And I, for one, am glad we have another mage. After the battles we had today with the darkspawn, it just goes to show you how a healer can change everything."

"Is he going to become our new Wynne, then?"

Thayer scratched the side of his face. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but I suppose he would, wouldn't he?"

Anders was versed in exactly the type of magic they needed the most: healing and reparative magic—the exact type Wynne excelled at. Anders was capable of healing wounds to the point where they appeared nonexistent, something that Thayer could only dream of.

"I can't believe Oghren came all this way," Alistair murmured. He moved to lie on his back, taking his arm with him. "Where did he say he was going again? Wasn't he going to become a general for Arl Eamon?"

"Suppose there's no need for him if there's nothing to fight," Thayer said. He bit his lip. "Or maybe there is? Anora seemed surprised to hear about the darkspawn, though. It makes me think they've only just resurfaced."

"Maker only knows why they popped up again. Bleeding beasts."

"We should get some rest." Thayer closed his eyes, moving under the covers. The air was chilly despite the fire lighting up the room. "Mistress Woolsey said she needed to speak with me, and we've got…_countless_ other things to worry about."

"Welcome to being a leader," Alistair teased. "But you're not alone. I told you we'd rebuild the Order together. I meant that."

Thayer felt his lips curling into a smile almost as if on their own accord. He reached over, brushed his fingers through Alistair's soft blond hair and said, "Thank you."


	16. Warden Commander Amell

**Author's Notes: Hi Everyone! It would appear I've FINALLY resurfaced after falling off the face of the earth. I'm not going to lie, I got distracted by the shiny pretty Dragon Age II, and then Pokemon Black/White, and then a bunch of other stuff, and writing sort of fell to the side. I'm a gamer nerd first, what can I say? **

**I wanted to apologize to everyone who's been eagerly awaiting the next chapter (and those of you who have all put this on your story alert, or me on your author alert, even more sincere apologies. I do need to make one thing clear: part of the reason why I've been experiencing massive writer's block with the story is because I've gotten to a point where writing has become difficult. Not because of lack of interest or a muse, but because the story will be ending soon, and I've been writing it for so long, connecting the end piece that I wrote to where I am now (about a chapter and a half ahead) has proven incredibly hard. Part of the trouble is that I also got sidetracked by another DA story related in part to this one, and my muse went hog wild with that for weeks. **

**At any rate, I wanted to thank you all so much for your patience and your interest in Reversing the Calling. It makes me feel warm-hearted inside to know how many of you can't wait to see what happens to Thayer and his cohorts. Please don't forget to share your thoughts and opinions in a review-I'm always curious how other people take what I write. :) Enjoy!**

* * *

Thayer awoke that morning feeling rested and in good spirits, but the mood lasted shortly. After bathing and dressing, he had begun prepping himself to head to the interior of the Vigil's Keep. That, of course, involved getting his staff. It took him a few moments to recall what had happened the night before, and how he'd lost his weapon.

Oak Branch was no longer whole. The pieces lay in a mess somewhere inside the keep.

Not having a staff seemed almost sacrilegious. He would need to get one soon, but he hadn't the faintest idea where he needed to start looking. He hoped someone in the keep would have a spare—at least something he could carry around to battle with until he found his replacement.

He arrived in the throne room later that morning with a somewhat sullen look about him. He tried his best to keep his spirits up.

"Good morning, Commander," Seneschal Varel said. He gestured to the throne. "Why don't you take a seat? Mistress Woolsey is on her way in. She's very eager to speak with you."

"Sit on the throne?" Thayer couldn't help but clarify.

"Where else, Commander?"

He cleared his throat. "Right. Yes."

Mistress Woolsey arrived shortly after Thayer sat down on the throne. He was glad, as this cut down on his time to marvel at the sensation. Never before had he thought he'd sit anywhere like this. It was a strange feeling.

"Commander," Woolsey said, bowing her head. "I trust everything treats you well this morning. I'm glad you've taken the time to listen to me."

"Of course. What seems to be the problem?"

Mistress Woolsey proceeded to tell Thayer about the concerns involving the Pilgrim's Path and how it needed to be cleared in order for trade to flow freely between Amaranthine and Denerim. She also made mention of men being killed by an unknown force bringing the trees to life—a mage, most likely.

Considering how intertwined the two cities were, it only made sense to go through and ensure safe passage for travelers using the pathway. Whatever was causing all of the destruction and blockage needed to be removed immediately.

Thayer wished he had a pause button. This wasn't a particularly grueling task, but it was sure to be just the first of dozens more that would be piled onto his plate. He'd been in this situation before—people coming to him and asking him to solve all their problems because he was a Grey Warden. In this case, however, he didn't have much choice. With Amaranthine belonging to the Wardens, now, it was up to him and Alistair to ensure that things ran smoothly.

And given Alistair's penchant for avoiding leadership where possible, this fell squarely on his shoulders, as would most things…

"We'll get it taken care of."

"Thank you, Commander." Woolsey bowed her head again. "Believe me, trade is essential. Without it, we here at the keep will have little to eat aside from shoe leather."

She took her leave. Seneschal Varel approached the throne.

"Don't worry, Commander. Whatever is going on down on the Pilgrim's Path can't be any worse than what you've seen. I imagine you'll have it taken care of quite soon."

Thayer certainly hoped so.

He sighed.

. . . . .

Alistair dropped himself onto his and Thayer's four-poster bed, stretching over the comforter. "So, right, then! We've got a busy day ahead of ourselves tomorrow, don't we?"

"Best way to figure it all out would be a list, I suppose." Thayer looked away from Alistair and stared off blankly into the air as he thought of the things they needed to accomplish.

First there was gaining more recruits. Second was dealing with the Pilgrim's Path. Third was something Captain Garevel had mentioned earlier that afternoon—the Deep Roads entrance in the basement of the keep. Fourth was actually traveling to Amaranthine itself and exploring the city to get a feel for it. Out of all the options, the Deep Roads were certainly the most pressing. They couldn't have darkspawn ambushing the keep again in the middle of the night.

But in truth, Thayer almost wanted to avoid it. He'd dealt with darkspawn nonstop for over a year; he'd barely had a few months' break before they entered his life again.

Something about this seemed wholly unfair.

"Here's the thing," Thayer began. "With the two of us in charge, I imagine from this point forward, in order to get more work done faster, we'll probably have to split up."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Are you already trying to get rid of me? Don't break my heart, love. It's very fragile."

Thayer couldn't help but smile. "I'm not. But you and I alone can take leadership on this."

"Don't say that. Leliana and Zevran came specifically to help us—to help _you_. They may not be Grey Wardens, but there's plenty of the day-to-day things they could take leadership over."

"That's true, isn't it. They mostly wanted to help us find and train recruits. Do you think they would mind dealing with these other things?"

"No use in pondering. It's best to just ask them." Alistair pulled Thayer into a loose hug, resting his nose atop the mage's shoulder. "We'll talk about it tomorrow after breakfast. You know they'll be happy to help."

Thayer hoped Alistair was right. With several tasks lying ahead of them—two of which were pressing—they needed all the help they could get. He'd relied on Leliana and Zevran before, even Oghren. After all, the dwarf had been the one to lead the charge against the darkspawn at the Denerim gate during the battle against the archdemon. Each of his companions save for Anders had proven their leadership skills previously. He could rely on them.

He just needed to remind himself of that tomorrow morning. It would be he who delegated the tasks. He would need to figure out who would deal with what.

Alistair yawned against Thayer's shoulder blade. He kissed it once, twice, and then rolled over to his side of the bed. "Maker, I'm sleepy. I'm going to go to bed, love. Don't stay up too late, hm?"

"I'll try not to. I've just got some planning to do. Good night."

Thayer heard light snoring coming from beside him only a few minutes after Alistair went to sleep. Sometimes he envied how easy it was for the other to fall under. On most nights Thayer needed twenty, sometimes thirty, minutes to drift off.

He stared up at the ceiling above him. Upon its surface danced shadows cast from the fireplace. He watched them as he thought about who would be doing what in the coming days. Delegation was always tricky.

There were three important things on the docket if one wiped off visiting Amaranthine for the time being. That he wanted to do, himself. He needed to get a new weapon, and Amaranthine was going to be only place around with a decent selection of staves.

The best person to see the Deep Roads taken care of was Oghren, that much was clear. Of all the people in their group, the only one who could really stomach him for long periods of time was Zevran. Well, that was one thing taken care of.

Pilgrim's Path was simple: he and Alistair would take care of that.

And that left the recruiting. Sending Leliana was most certainly the right decision—her warm and intriguing disposition would catch the attention of those with whom she spoke. The person in question was Anders. Was sending him a smart idea? After all, he was a new Warden, and that meant it had positives. But then again that meant it had negatives, as well.

He chewed his lip. It was a risk he would have to take.

Thayer trusted Leliana. She would keep an eye on him and ensure things went right.

Was that it? Yes, it seemed so. That went by much quicker than he thought it would. The ability to delegate apparently hadn't left him, after all.

Thayer rolled over to face Alistair, curling up with his pillow. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind.

And of course, naturally, every concern or worry he'd managed to bury within the last few days hit him—and hit him hard.

Recruiting new Wardens meant condemning people to a limited life. They'd blindly gone through the Joining with their three recruits, one of whom hadn't made it. Mhairi was a painful reminder of how volatile the Joining was, and how easily life could be ripped from one's hands. She was young, full of energy and goals.

And now she was nothing.

_No young recruits, _Thayer thought_. They have too much to live for. _

_But then, what if they're married and have a family? _

He groaned quietly at the thought. Where had that come from?

He remembered Ser Jory, the warrior from his Joining. The man with the wife back home, expecting their child.

This was a difficult situation. He was damned one way or another. He supposed he would have to make do with whoever's willingness to join the Order. After all, that was how he'd gained his first three recruits, although Anders was a special case.

Conscription was the one route he didn't wish to go. He'd invoked the Right only as a means of saving Anders' life. Anders was surely grateful, but Thayer remembered being conscripted. It wasn't the most enjoyable feeling in the world knowing that you didn't have much choice.

Thayer groaned again. He just wanted to go to bed.

Try though he might, the mage lay there for nearly an hour, unable to fall asleep due to all of the thoughts racing around in his head.

Annoyed, he figured he might as well use the time to do something productive. At a time like this, there was only one thing worth doing.

He got up and out of the bed, hesitating briefly to make sure Alistair didn't wake. Once clear, he went to his satchel and rummaged through it until he found Avernus' journal. With it in hand he tiptoed to the round table in the center of the room, grabbed a chair and pulled it over to the fireplace so he could read.

Thayer tried to think of the last time he'd read Avernus' journal. It took him a minute, but he realized it had been well over two weeks—back when they were in Orlais and he'd just used his own blood as a means of powering his spells. Ever since then he'd left it tucked away in his bag.

Fear could do strange things to a man. Thayer knew that was the primary reason why he'd ignored the journal for this long. Though it had been relieving to learn that what he'd done had been experienced by someone else before him, it worried him that he was delving this deep. Sure, it was one thing to use your life force to energize your spirit, but it was another entirely to use it to power your spells_ instead_.

Alistair would kill him if he knew what he was doing, Thayer thought miserably. He hated sneaking around like this and wished that he'd just _say_ something. But fear was crippling him in this respect. Admitting to Alistair that he fancied him was one thing; admitting to using blood magic was something completely different.

Thayer shook his head. He opened up Avernus' journal and thumbed through the pages until he found an entry dated only three days after the last one he'd read.

_My latest experimentation has led me to some new conclusions about blood magic as a whole._

_As I wrote previously, I had intended to replicate my experiment wherein I used my own blood to power my spells. This seems to hold true, as proven by my multiple run-throughs. I feel lightheaded after all of my work, but the results were well worth it. _

_What I find curious now is that I can not only use my own blood, but that of __others__ to fuel my magical abilities. _

_A warrior, Ser Wollen, was practicing in the courtyard for the inevitable onslaught upon our fortress. From within my tower I watched him, transfixed. He was spending so much energy doing next to nothing, and yet, despite that, he was brimming with it. The idea hit me out of the blue. Perhaps, I thought, it would be possible to use his spirit to feed my spells. _

_I focused on him and cast a spell. At first, nothing happened. I simply used my own power to fuel it. However, after several attempts, I found him stumble and lose focus when I cast another simple spell. I proceeded to repeat the process to the same result. He eventually got confused and eventually went inside. _

_While I would by no means continue to use this tactic against my allies, it would most certainly serve to weaken my enemies. I just wish I had more of them I could practice this on to ensure that I do it properly. I do not wish to injure the few allies that remain. _

_But perhaps there's little that can be helped in that regard…_

Thayer closed Avernus' journal and furrowed his brow. He looked over at their bed and caught Alistair rolling himself up further in the sheets. Why had he thought it would be such a good idea to read Avernus' journal in place of sleeping?

He could have smacked himself.

. . . . .

Thayer slept fitfully that night, plagued by dozens of strange dreams.

Perhaps one of the most disturbing was one wherein he performed blood transfusions between him and Captain Garevel. Why he dreamt of that man, he had no idea, but as uncomfortable as the dream had been, the idea of transfusion refused to leave his mind.

He thought about it all through breakfast. If Avernus had learned to use another being's blood to fuel his spells, perhaps it was possible to take another's blood and replace his own? Doing so would theoretically remove the taint. Or so he thought. But the question was, could Thayer manage to perform such an experiment without feeling completely foul?

He wished he could answer that without hesitating.

Or…maybe he didn't.

He didn't know.

"So, where to first?"

Thayer glanced up from his plate at Leliana. She had a smile on her face.

"Pilgrim's Path," he said. "We need to clear the trade route if we plan on staying here a while."

"_All_ of us?" Anders raised an eyebrow, looking around the table at the group. "Surely we don't all need to go."

"By all means, stay," Alistair muttered under his breath beside Thayer.

"Well, not _all_ of us." Thayer shook his head. "Alistair and I will take care of that together. We have other things that need to be taken care of, so I've delegated tasks to each of you."

"I do love it when he takes charge like that," Zevran said, wearing a smirk.

Not skipping a beat, the mage continued, "I want you, Zevran, to partner with Leliana and Seneschal Varel in order to help find us some more recruits."

"New recruits, hm? But neither of us are Grey Wardens."

"Perhaps not, but we know what the position entails." Leliana smiled. She seemed pleased with the idea. "After all, we've traveled with two of them."

Oghren shifted in his seat beside Leliana, letting out a grunt. "So what're me and the kid here gonna do?"

"I'm not a _kid_," Anders groaned.

"You two are going down to the basement to see what's going on with the darkspawn."

"All right! Action!"

"Do I really have to go with…with _him_?"

Thayer nodded. "Consider it a bonding exercise for the two of you."

Anders' face paled and his head dropped. "What did I get myself into?"

. . . . .

"Are you absolutely sure you want to go without a staff?"

Though Thayer appreciated Alistair's concern, he wondered if the warrior would understand how he felt right then. The mage had gone through all the staves available through traders present in the keep, but none of them had the right feel. Using a staff that didn't properly resonate with your magical energy was almost worse than not using one at all. He would still be able to cast his spells—after all, they came from the world around him and the power within. He just wondered if they would be as effective without something to channel them.

"I'm sure. After we clear the Pilgrim's Path we should be able to go to Amaranthine and find me a new one."

"If you say so." Alistair squeezed Thayer's shoulders, giving him a quick kiss. "Shouldn't take too much to get rid of the bandits or whatever it is causing trouble on the path. Worst comes to worst, you just burn them to the ground, hm?"

Thayer and Alistair traveled from their bedroom upstairs in the living quarters and across the keep grounds toward the throne room. Thayer wanted to make sure everyone knew was prepared for their upcoming tasks prior to leaving. When they arrived they were met with all familiar faces, including Seneschal Varel and Captain Garevel.

"All right, everyone, thank you for meeting me here. Alistair and I wanted to ensure everyone understood their tasks before we left. As you know, the Pilgrim's Path is a few days' journey from here, so the two of us will be gone for about a week, perhaps two. In the meantime, you've all been given your individual duties to take care of."

Thayer looked to Leliana and Zevran. "As you know, you two will work with Captain Garevel to help bring new recruits to our cause. Travel to Amaranthine and try to get at least three or four people who would be willing."

Next he turned to Oghren and Anders. The taller mage wore a preoccupied expression coupled with an inability to stand still. He was clearly uncomfortable. Thayer hoped that would change in time.

"It is up to you two to help secure the basement and whatever lies beneath so that we can stay in the keep in peace. Whatever you find, please report it to the Seneschal so that he is aware. If you need any backup there are others around the keep who can help."

"We're good!" Oghren said cheerfully. He brandished his axe. "Any darkspawn'd be a fool to mess with the two of us, right, blondie?"

Anders rolled his eyes. "Blondie? Are you going to have a new nickname for me every day?"

"Hey, it builds team spirit! You'll get used to it!"

Everyone chuckled, even Anders, who seemed to be amused by the name.

"Well, that's it. Keep focused and we'll regroup as soon as Alistair and I return. Good luck."


	17. The Silverite Mine

**Author's Notes: Hey everyone! I can't believe the story is coming to an end soon...this is the second to last chapter, so brace yourselves. I thought long and hard about continuing into the Awakening expansion but I eventually decided against it, not wanting to retell that tale. As you might expect, this chapter does continue to have spoilers for Awakening, so beware in reading-something may pop up you haven't come across yet!**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

"There it is. The Wending Wood."

Thayer and Alistair had been following the Pilgrim's Path for just over three days now and had finally arrived at their destination. When the two of them stopped overnight at a local inn, the Wending Wood had been described by many of the patrons as the base of all the problems traveling merchants experienced. Bandits rampaged the path, making it nearly impossible to cross without a hefty payment.

"Sometimes I feel like a glorified philanthropist," Alistair said, staring down the path that continued in front of them.

Thayer didn't question it. He knew what the other had meant by his words, but it didn't seem like quite the right context. Whatever the case, he continued forward, stopping suddenly.

"What?"

"Do you smell that?"

Alistair sniffed the air. He made a face. "Smoke?"

"You can see it, too. Look."

Just a ways down the path was a patch of flames roaring over what appeared to be a scorched caravan. Several people stood in front of it but none of them took notice of the two passersby.

"They're bandits," Alistair said. "I see weapons."

"Well, you wanted action. Here we go."

With a wicked grin, Thayer bolted forward, rubbing his hands together.

"Hey, wait for me!"

Truth be told, Thayer had been itching for a bit of action, himself. Wiping out some bandits was just what he needed.

To his surprise, just as he was about to release a blast of ice at the group of men, the front man held his hands up.

"Wait!"

The two Wardens stopped. Thayer blinked.

"We're not here to cause any trouble, promise."

"Then why the hell is this caravan in flames?" Alistair barked.

"We found it this way. It's because of—because of _her_! Ah!"

Thayer turned his head toward a nearby hill the bandit pointed to. There stood a blond haired elf—a mage—with her staff holstered and her arms stretched out wide. Within her hands glowed a bright green light that she expelled into two nearby trees. Loud cracking followed as the two trees suddenly uprooted themselves from the ground, their massive forms contorting from the magic.

She was bringing the trees to life.

"She makes the trees attack!" one of the bandits howled. "Run away!"

Before Thayer could make sense of what was happening the three bandits bolted from the scene. He looked at Alistair, then toward the animated trees. Curiously enough, they stalked past him and his companion, chasing after the other men.

He looked back up at the hill. The elf remained.

"Who are you?" he called to her.

"Why does it matter to you, shem?"

The elf placed her hands behind her back and moved closer to the ledge. She stared down at Thayer and Alistair. She wore a steely expression.

"Why have you come here?"

"I believe we should be asking you the same question," Thayer replied curtly.

"I'm here to bring justice to the men who kidnapped my sister."

"And one of these merchant travelers took her?" Alistair asked.

"Nonsense. Of course they didn't. The bandits did! And I will kill every last one of them until they give her back to me!"

"I don't understand—"

"Silence! Every moment I waste with you is a moment lost searching for Seranni. I have no qualms with you, so stay out of my way and you won't be harmed."

Thick brown roots burst from the ground surrounding the elf. Before they engulfed her completely, she said:

"Oh, and watch out for the darkspawn."

Just as quickly as the roots arose, they, along with the elf, disappeared.

Thayer and Alistair stared at each other in disbelief.

"Come on," the mage said, "we have to figure out what's going on here."

. . . . .

Thayer glanced around him, trying to make sense of where they were. He felt like they had been in this exact spot before just a while previous. Were they going around in circles? God, he hoped not.

Alistair seemed to be of the same mind. "I think we're going around in circles."

"Me, too. But my concern is the darkspawn. I wonder how many are left…"

At first he'd thought the elf had mentioned them as a means of scaring them away, but as they worked their way deeper into the forest, sure enough, they came across a hoard of darkspawn. Thayer had quickly done away with them thanks to a towering wall of fire, leaving them singed and charred in his wake.

What worried him more was the fact that apparently the darkspawn had been the source of the trouble from the very beginning. After coming across a fallen dying solider who told them of the darkspawn ambush, Thayer and Alistair also discovered that it was they who took Seranni, the elf's sister. Hearing that the darkspawn had set up a successful ambush with a kidnapping put them ill at ease. The darkspawn didn't _ambush. _That was unheard of.

Yet after everything the two Wardens had seen in their lives, was it such a stretch?

On their trek through the forest, Thayer and Alistair occasionally heard inhuman—and some human—screams and cries from off in the distance, which led Thayer to believe that the elf was still on her mission to find her sister. She was doing them a favor by helping kill darkspawn, but that didn't mean she wasn't a danger, herself. Until she found her sister, anyone going through there was a potential victim.

"Do you see that hill off in the distance? I think we should try and make our way there. It's a good vantage point. We might be able to see if there are any darkspawn left before nightfall."

Alistair nodded in agreement, moving close to Thayer. He had his sword and shield at the ready.

Together the two of them traveled down a winding beaten path that Thayer hoped would guide them to the hill. He'd thought of going there before, only to be distracted by a group of Hurlocks looking to cause trouble.

The two Wardens managed to make it to the base of the hill without interruption. Above them, the sun had just begun to set. They didn't have much time.

Thayer and Alistair started up the hill. The mage took every precaution to ensure that no enemy popped out from the ruins that littered either side of the pathway. They'd been ambushed by Shrieks nearby. He still sported a nasty cut from one of them. He hated those bastards.

As the top of the hill came into sight, Alistair reached out and grabbed Thayer's arm, pulling him back. The mage grunted and looked back in surprise.

"Shh. She's up there."

Thayer nodded, slowing his steps. The clearing of the hill soon became visible, revealing an abandoned campsite with weapons and debris strewn about everywhere. There stood the elf, her back turned to them. He wondered if she would notice their arrival.

"Hello?" he called out after several moments of silence.

The elf didn't turn around as she spoke. "I thought she would be here."

"Your sister?"

"Yes." The elf turned around, holding something that appeared like an amulet cupped in her hands. She shook her head. "This was Seranni's. She wouldn't have left this behind, not willingly. No bandits remain, yet none of them had her."

Alistair said, "The bandits didn't do this. The darkspawn did."

The elf looked at Alistair, her dark eyes widening with disbelief. "What? No, the darkspawn couldn't have done this. They don't have the thinking power."

"Well, they did. And they kidnapped your sister, too."

"Why would the darkspawn do this?" she asked.

"I don't know," Thayer said, "but I'm going to find out."

As the two Wardens turned to leave, the elf called out, "Wait!"

She pocketed the amulet, approaching them with a tentative step. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but please, let me accompany you."

Let her come with them? That seemed like a dangerous idea. She had gone around blindly killing people, all in the name of vengeance. Now, here she stood, defeated. But she still wanted to continue.

There was power in numbers, especially when one of those people was a mage with the ability to animate trees and transport herself through the earth.

Thayer turned to Alistair. He wore a look of uncertainty, but said nothing.

"Why?"

"I need to find my sister, Seranni. I will destroy as many darkspawn as I need to in order to save her."

Hers was a quest of heroism. Thayer couldn't turn away help where it was offered.

He nodded. "Fine. But I'm keeping an eye on you."

"Thank you. You will not regret it. Now, where should we go to find these darkspawn? They can't have gotten far."

"We don't know this area well at all," Alistair said. "But darkspawn like tunnels. Dark places. You know, anywhere they can creep freely."

"There's an abandoned mine just down this hill, due north. That may be a good place to start." The elf cleared her throat. "My name is Velanna."

"I'm Thayer. And this is Alistair." He gestured to the blond. "We're Grey Wardens."

"Wardens. Hm. Well, can't you sense them?"

"I'm getting weird feelings from that mine," Alistair admitted. "Maybe she's right."

"Then I guess that's where we go next."

. . . . .

Thayer was beginning to wonder why the darkspawn loved dark caves with such fervor. He understood the connection they had to the Deep Roads, being void of light and beneath the ground, but it had to get boring after a while. He was certainly over the countless trips below the Earth's surface, that much was for sure.

He stepped in something squishy and wet that made him stumble forward a few steps. He grabbed on to a nearby guard rail in an attempt to steady himself.

"Maker only knows what that was…" he grumbled, not wanting to look down at his foot, nor at whatever it was he had stepped in.

"Probably animal droppings," Velanna offered.

Thayer chose not to comment on that.

With the light from the entrance nearly completely faded, Thayer put his hand palm up and summoned forth a small ball of flame to help light their way. Though it didn't offer much in the way of distance, they could at least see several feet surrounding them.

"Watch your step," he said. "There's some stairs here."

He led the way down the stairs and toward a nearby platform. It seemed oddly ornamental in the middle of the cave floor, almost as if planted there. He looked warily around him at his surroundings, and suddenly caught sight of a dwarf and a strange looking individual standing atop a small precipice across from them.

"Who are you?" Alistair called out to them.

A voice entered Thayer's head, soothing and hypnotizing all at the same time.

_Shh…sleep…_

Beneath him the platform began to glow in the shape of a glyph, an all too familiar glyph that meant trouble. But Thayer was unable to move, his mind growing hazy. His eyelids, limbs, and eventually his whole body grew phenomenally heavy. Unable to support the weight he collapsed to the ground, eyes closing, knocked out.

. . . . .

Dull pain.

Darkness.

Thayer slowly regained consciousness thanks to a sharp twinge that began in his neck and quickly leaped down his spine. His eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness that surrounded him. There was a figure close to him that he soon discerned was Alistair. Across the floor lay another, smaller body that must have been Velanna. He couldn't be sure—not with the lack of light.

The oppressive weight of his own body continued to be a persistent issue as Thayer attempted to lift himself up. After what felt like ever he finally managed to sit up and rest himself against the cold, wet stone wall that ran across the back side of the room.

He took in a deep breath. Sitting up, while half the battle, seemed to be helping his circulation, bringing life back to his body and banishing the heavy feeling from his limbs.

As the mage sat there he tried to recollect his thoughts.

How had he gotten here? All he could remember was entering the cave. After that, it was a literal blank.

He reached up and rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand. Then he reached over and carefully nudged Alistair. In doing so he realized that he wasn't wearing the same robes he had entered with. These seemed lighter than his own, but felt rougher to the touch.

What was he doing out of his robes?

"Alistair," he called quietly. "Alistair, wake up."

The blond stirred beside him with a pained groan. He struggled to roll over. While the warrior attempted to rouse himself, Thayer glanced around them to try and get an idea of where they were. They were in some kind of cell—thick bars blocked any way out of their small entrapment. Lining the walls around the room were small lanterns, though they did little to help him see beyond a few feet in front of him.

Alistair finally sat himself up. He tipped sideways and fell against Thayer. "Maker, my head…"

"I don't know where we are," Thayer said, rubbing his forehead. "I—"

He stopped at the sudden sound of footsteps coming from nearby. A shadowy appeared in the archway across the room, heading right for them. Thayer moved to stand, wobbling in the process. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Velanna had already moved to stand without so much as a sound.

The figure from the archway stopped just short of the bars, waving her hands frantically at Thayer, Alistair and Velanna.

"You have to hurry. They are coming to check on you. You must go!"

"Seranni!"

Thayer raised an eyebrow. Seranni, as in her sister?

"Seranni, what have they done with you?" Velanna asked. She quickly approached the bars.

"Velanna, everything is okay. Don't worry about me. Worry about yourself," Seranni replied.

"What do you mean, worry about ourselves?" Thayer stepped beside Velanna and looked over Seranni. She was dimly lit but something felt off about her. If Thayer didn't know any better, he would have thought she carried the taint. Perhaps she was a ghoul…

"I don't want anyone else to get hurt," Seranni said. "You need to get out of here."

Velanna said, "Very well, Seranni, then open the doors and I'll take you home. We'll get out of here!"

"I can't stay any longer, I have to go. They're coming. The darkspawn have your things. Just find a way out and go, please!"

Seranni turned on her heels and rushed for the exit. Velanna called after her, "Seranni, don't go, please! Wait!"

But it was too late. She was gone.

"Cursed darkspawn!" Velanna growled. "We need to get out of here!"

"I think she left behind a key." Thayer caught a glimmer from an item resting on the floor by one of the bars. He knelt down to pick it up. Sure enough, it was a key.

"Here, let's try it out."

He searched the bars for the lock, and once he found it he used the key to pop it open and let them out. Velanna bolted out and ran for the archway.

"Wait, don't go alone!" Alistair called after her.

"I must find my sister!"

Velanna disappeared down the dark pathway. Moments later came a shrill cry that undoubtedly was from her.

"Darkspawn!" she shouted.

The pathway lit up from a flaming blast of energy. Thayer, still feeling slightly off kilter, chased after her, hands at the ready.

Velanna maintained a ball of fire in her hand to use as a light source. Around her lay several darkspawn corpses. One of them had been holding a longsword which Alistair picked up. He gave it a quick spin, testing its weight and feel.

"Not my usual sword of choice, but it'll have to do until we find the darkspawn that took our things."

"I couldn't care less about material possessions." Velanna shook her head. "I just want my sister back."

"We'll get her back," Thayer said. "But we need to make sure we're ready for whatever comes. Keep an eye out for any overly decorated darkspawn."

Thayer led Alistair and Velanna through the winding corridors of the mine, demolishing the numerous darkspawn along the way. They moved deeper into the mine, and bit by bit managed to gather their appropriate gear. The road was rough, rougher than Thayer could have anticipated. He almost wished he'd brought someone else along. Had Velanna not chosen to follow them, he and Alistair would have surely been overwhelmed.

The path they were following eventually led them into a large, spacious hall with a vaulted ceiling.

They had been underground for too long. Thayer missed the sunlight.

"Brace yourselves," Velanna said, as she pointed up a set of steps before them. Atop the platform stood a large, hulking figure.

Thayer kept his hands at the ready, stepping sideways up the stairs. To his surprise the figure—a Qunari—did not charge. In fact he simply stood there, giving the three of them a strange look.

"It would be unwise to attack me."

Alistair cocked his head to the side. "What, are you just vacationing here in the mines? Is there some beauty I'm not seeing in them?"

"Do not taunt me, human," the Qunari said. "I am a merchant. I trade with the darkspawn."

Thayer raised an eyebrow. "Trade…with the darkspawn." He wasn't sure what to think of that. Everything he knew of the darkspawn seemed to be changing before his eyes. Since when were they intelligent enough to understand money, let alone trade it for equipment and potions?

"Yes. And I am willing to trade with you, for a price."

"We'll pass for now," Velanna said flatly. She gestured to the grand double doors beside them. "Are we going to go any further? Seranni could be inside!"

"Pushy, pushy," Alistair muttered under his breath.

Thayer folded his arms over his chest. He eyed the Qunari. "Did anyone come this way earlier?"

"A few people. They are probably long gone by now, however."

That was all he needed to hear. They were going in the right direction and that was all he cared about.

"Come on, let's get moving."


	18. An Unexpected Outcome

**Author's Notes: Hi everyone! This is it! The last chapter...I feel like a big part of my life will be missing, seeing as I've worked on this story in bits and pieces for well over a year. I've always known how it would begin and how it would end-the hard part was weaving everything in between. Some stuff was cut, some stuff was added, but overall, I couldn't be more pleased with the story overall. I wanted to take this time to say thank you to everyone who's been a loyal reader. This story has been my first step into the Dragon Age universe and I've met some great people thanks to their reviews on my story. **

**I hope this chapter brings you all to the same level that I was at once I finished it. Please don't forget to let me know what you think, be it positive, negative, neutral, whatever. Your comments and questions always help me focus my writing, and help me to become a better writer! :)**

* * *

Thayer guided his companions through the large doors before them. They walked through a short, dimly lit corridor that spilled into a much larger room with a high, seemingly endless ceiling. He urned one of his hands upward and ignited a fireball within the palm of his hand that helped bring things into focus around them.

"I don't see anything," Velanna said. She growled quietly. "Where's the exit from this room? Where are we supposed to go?"

The elven mage stepped further into the cavern, igniting the tip of her staff to help guide her way. She whipped the enchanted flame around her in an attempt to find their way out. When she turned her light on one of the upper corners of the room she let out a surprised gasp.

"Seranni!"

Thayer looked up where Velanna was pointing. Standing next to Seranni was a strange looking darkspawn and a dwarven woman with sores on her face and dark circles around her eyes. Odd company to keep, considering she had been trying to help them escape not but a while earlier.

Seranni, the darkspawn and the dwarf all began to retreat into a hole within the wall that must have led to a hidden tunnel. He began to focus on a paralysis spell that would hold them in place.

"Seranni, wait!"

Velanna's voice broke his concentration. Before he was able to send the spell at the trio, they disappeared into the tunnel. The darkspawn demolished the visible entrance, leaving them seemingly trapped within the cavern. That couldn't be the only way out, could it? Thayer hoped not.

"Maker's breath! Dragons!"

Alistair's sudden shout sent Thayer's attention reeling. "Dragons? Where?"

"Over there!" Velanna screamed, her staff's light shining bright on a pair of dragons perched higher within the cavern.

The two dragons moved like clockwork together, both leaping from their roosts and landing roughly on the stone floor beneath them. Their immense weight sent shockwaves through the ground which nearly toppled Velanna over.

Thayer suddenly felt terrible for not having brought a staff with him. What a stupid move to make.

"As if what we've been through wasn't enough," Alistair said with a groan. He brought his sword up and readied his shield. "How are we going to—"

He was cut off by a loud screech sent forth by one of the dragons. Velanna's enchanted fire had caught its attention. It spread its leathery wings wide and reached forward, attempting to knock the staff from her hands.

"Blasted beast, away with you!"

Velanna blasted a wide-arcing flame that hit the dragon full on. The sheer power emanating from her spell sent rippling heat waves through the cavern, dazzling light seeping into every corner. Thayer had never seen a spell so powerful before; he couldn't help but stare in surprise.

Unfortunately for them, the spell did nothing but upset the dragon further. It roared angrily, letting out a flash flame from its mouth that Velanna dodged—though just barely.

Alistair took the second dragon head on. Under the cover of his shield he went right for the dragon's underbelly, using the tip of his blade to draw a long lash from the side. It was a rare hit to pull off, and he paid for it with a powerful kick from the dragon's hind leg that sent him flying across the floor.

"Alistair!"

With one of the dragons dazed by the powerful blow, Thayer had only a moment to summon a powerful spell to help them out. He saw Velanna engaging the other in battle while Alistair lay on his side, trying to recover from the hit. Both of them were sufficiently distracted. They surely wouldn't notice…

Thayer took a deep breath. Using one of his fingernails, he broke the skin on the underside of his left arm. Crimson blood trickled out, giving him the power he needed to cast a spell that would turn the tide in their favor. He closed his eyes and focused on the temperature of the room, absorbing any and all lingering heat in the air. A cold wind began circling on the ground beneath them, picking up speed as it traveled upward to the rocky ceiling above them. Thayer felt his magic waning, but his blood provided the extra boost of energy he needed to take the spell beyond its normal capacity. As the chilly tendrils of air whipped through the cavern, a thick grey cloud formed above.

He gave Velanna one warning:

"Watch out!"

The grey cloud burst with a howl of wind that sent chunks of ice and frost swirling through the air. The dragons stopped in place and looked up at the sudden blizzard, appearing uncertain as to how to rectify the situation. Thayer used their momentary confusion to run toward Alistair and help him up. To his surprise the warrior was already lifting himself off the ground by the time he'd arrived.

"I'm up," Alistair said, using his shield to block himself from a blast of ice that nearly toppled him over.

"Come on, let's try and find cover," Thayer suggested.

"No, we have to use this time to take them down for good. Watch out, I've got a clear shot!"

Alistair didn't wait for Thayer to reply before he went head-on toward the dragon he'd injured before. The creature screeched in surprise as the warrior's blade dug into its thick, scaly hide not once, not twice, but three times just behind its front legs. As it collapsed to the ground Alistair spun around in front of it. With one clean cut he decapitated the beast, slinging his blade through the air to hit its head toward the other dragon.

The frost from the blizzard had burned the other dragon's wings beyond repair. It shrieked in pain every time it tried to spread them, and Velanna used this to her advantage. The stones beneath the beast shattered as large roots burst their way from the dirt beneath. Each root sprouted large, sharp thorns that wrapped and curled around the dragon, piercing its rough hide all over. Velanna lowered her staff and the roots enveloped the dragon, choking it as they brought it down against the dirt. It let out one last cry before taking its last breath.

Thayer, Alistair and Velanna waited a few moments to ensure that both dragons were done for. The blizzard's power eventually subsided, but the cold air lingered, with frost sticking to the tips of their hair and noses.

"It would seem they're gone," Velanna said.

"The dragons? Of course they are. They better be gone if they know what's good for them!" Alistair muttered.

"Not the dragons, you moron. Seranni and the other two. They're _gone_!" She turned to Thayer, her eyes hard and jaw set. "We need to find them, together. Let me join your Wardens. Please. In exchange for what powers your group can offer in helping me find my sister, I pledge my magic to you."

Thayer instinctively looked to Alistair, who wore a blank expression. He certainly had an opinion on the matter…why did he look so disinterested?

He turned back to the elf. The more help they had, the better. And mages…he would be stupid to turn away their help. It would help keep the trade route clear.

"You're welcome to join the Wardens. Come back with us to the keep and we can see what the future holds. For now, let's find our way out of here. We have a long way back home."

. . . . .

Goblet in hand, Thayer approached Velanna. She straightened up and looked him straight in the eye, her own alight with focus. Something about her still scared him a little—he couldn't place a finger on it. He didn't want her to know that, not having seen what she was capable of.

Those roots…

"Here, Velanna. Drink from this goblet. But know that in doing so, you risk your life to join the Wardens."

"I do so honorably. Whatever I can do to get my sister back and aid you along the way."

Thayer extended the goblet to her, and watched and she drank deeply from within. He took it back from her and waited. His stomach turned when she fell to the ground, but he reminded himself that he had to hold back. She needed time to handle the magic that she'd ingested.

Velanna writhed around on the floor for a few moments before she stilled. Her eyes, which had just turned milky white, slowly regained their deep brown color. Her cheeks flushed. She groaned.

She was alive.

"Welcome," Thayer said to her, reaching down to help her up. Inside he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you…" Velanna wobbled upon standing. She regained her footing over a few moments' time. She ran her hands over her face. "The taste is disgusting. How did you all handle it? How do you get rid of it?"

"It goes away after a while," Anders said. He had been there in case she needed any healing after her Joining. With a grin, he added, "Looks like the taint agrees with you."

"What do you mean by _that_?" she snapped. The male mage turned bright pink and shook his head. Velanna let it drop in favor of asking, "Tell me more about the Wardens. What makes you all so special?"

Thayer had a feeling that Velanna was used to being upfront. He didn't know exactly how to respond to her.

"Wardens are the only strong line of defense against the darkspawn," he stated. "Only a Warden can truly defeat an archdemon when they start a blight."

"But _how_?"

"You'll come to understand in time," Alistair said curtly. He pushed off the column against which he was leaning, bringing himself to stand beside her. "For now, the most important thing to you will probably be filling your stomach. New Wardens are always insatiably hungry."

"I feel just fine."

"Yes, _now_, but give it time. Everyone gets hungry." The warrior folded his arms over his chest and headed for the door. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my quarters. I'm tired, so if I'm asleep, get me later."

Thayer raised an eyebrow at Alistair's comment. What surprised him more was how quickly his lover had removed himself from the situation. Usually Alistair remained to make sure that the new recruits handled things all right before leaving them alone. Then again, Thayer was there, as were Anders and Seneschal Varel. Velanna wasn't alone.

Velanna didn't seem pleased with the information given to her. She tutted beneath her breath and folded her arms over her chest. "'Everyone gets hungry'. Mm-hmm. Well, fine. Where am I staying in this keep?"

"I'll show you the way. Come on."

Thayer guided Velanna out of the throne room and across the grounds to the living quarters. Once inside he showed her to one of the spare rooms on the second level.

"You can claim this room as yours," he said. "It's not much, but it has a bed, a window and an armoire for your clothing and other materials." He paused while she looked around the room. When it seemed she'd settled, he turned to leave. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to come to the main building of the keep. The eatery is across the grounds from the living quarters, and the bathhouse is beside the market area."

"Thayer."

"Hmm?"

Velanna looked troubled. "My sister. You'll help me find her, right?"

"Of course."

"I fear for her safety. If she's traveling with the darkspawn, I don't know how long she'll last. We must find her immediately."

"We have many things we need to do," Thayer said. "My first priority is to try and get the keep functional again. We lost many people in the darkspawn raid…and with their persistent presence here, they are the biggest issue we face."

Though Velanna made a face, she didn't disagree. He could tell she understood, begrudgingly. "I agreed to help you. And I will. But don't forget your promise."

"I won't." He smiled. "Dinner is soon. Come to the eatery and join us."

Velanna smiled as well. It warmed and softened her normally hardened expression. "Sure."

Thayer left Velanna to her own devices, heading to his room upstairs. He, too, was tired, but now was really the only time he had to relax. Dinner was when he planned to recap what happened on the Pilgrim's Path and in the mine, which would undoubtedly lead to late-into-the-night planning as to how they would rectify the situation.

Unsurprisingly, the door to his bedroom was shut. When he slipped inside, Alistair wasn't lying on the bed—rather, he was staring out the window that looked over the grounds of the keep.

When Thayer closed the door behind him he expected Alistair to turn around but he didn't. Instead he called, "Hey."

"Hey," Thayer said, scratching the back of his head. "So much for resting, hm?"

Alistair didn't reply. He brought his arms closer to his chest.

"Everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," Alistair said. "What are you doing up here? I thought you were helping Velanna."

"I got her all situated in her room. She wanted some time to herself before dinner."

Alistair just nodded.

Thayer was under the distinct impression that everything was _not_ all right. The sudden change in behavior was unexpected; Alistair had seemed just fine a few hours ago when they'd arrived back to the keep. What had changed?

He sat down on the bed for a moment, moving to lie back with a sigh. He closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head.

"Come join me?"

Alistair muttered something under his breath.

The mage opened his eyes and turned to look at his partner. Alistair was staring out the window so hard that his eyes looked as if they might bug out of his head.

Thayer got up and off the bed and walked over to Alistair. "All right, what's the matter with you?" He reached out to put his hand on Alistair's shoulder. The other jerked away from his touch and launched himself toward the center of the room, creating distance between the two of them.

"What's going on?" Thayer asked. His heart skipped a beat. What was wrong with Alistair?

Finally, Alistair looked at him. The distance and anger in his eyes was unparalleled—he looked almost _betrayed_.

"How _could_ you?"

Thayer paused. Any accusation made him feel uneasy. He promised himself he would remain calm and collected until he got all of the answers. "How could I what?" he asked curiously.

Alistair threw his arms up and opened his mouth. However, he seemed to struggle getting out whatever was inside him. The moment Thayer approached him, he stepped back and blurted out, "_Blood magic_!"

Thayer's heart sank into his stomach. Blood magic. That could only mean one thing: Alistair had seen what he'd done in the mine to help turn the battle in their favor. He swallowed. Two options lay before him: he could deny it, or he could finally own up to his actions and hope for the best.

How he'd dreaded this day…

"Well?" Alistair said, voice rising. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

The words formed thick, impassable lumps in Thayer's throat. He spoke softly at first, but repeated his words so Alistair could hear. "It's…true."

Alistair growled. In his rage, he knocked over a display of books on their writing desk. "How _could_ you? How? Blood magic! Right underneath my _nose_!"

Thayer couldn't think of anything to say. He wanted to defend himself, to defend his choices, but the look in Alistair's eyes crippled any sensibility within him. He should have at least been able to talk back, but even that proved difficult.

"I—I was trying to _fix—_"

"I don't _care_ what you were trying to do! It was blood magic!" Alistair shook his head, letting out an incredulous laugh. "The one person in the world I'm supposed to be able to trust with my life, and he goes and does the very thing we'd both sworn to prevent. You—you _know_ what blood magic has done! You've _seen_ it firsthand! The damage, the destruction!" Alistair continued angrily, "How could you lie to me so boldfaced? _How_?"

Thayer didn't have a chance to reply before Alistair said, "I can't believe you!"

Only one thing felt appropriate to say.

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? You're _sorry_? Sorry won't fix the unfixable, Thayer! You've _broken_ this!"

Alistair's harsh words lashed into Thayer like red hot whips. He closed his eyes, feeling an immense pressure building within him. He knew his magical energies were reacting to the situation but he had to keep control. He couldn't let go, or he'd blow the room up. He lifted his heads to his head, holding it like a vice grip.

"It's unforgivable, Thayer. And I can't stay here any longer. Not knowing what you've done."

That was the last straw. Thayer's throat constricted, making it harder and harder to breathe. He opened his eyes and looked at Alistair, feeling tears well up in the corners of his eyes. He wanted to stop him, wanted to explain himself, but every time he opened his mouth he felt that pressure trying to escape. He had to focus more now on controlling rather than defending himself.

"Whatever you choose to do now is your own doing. Hopefully Amaranthine won't fall under your command."

Thayer watched as Alistair moved swiftly around the room, angrily throwing together what looked like a satchel of his most important belongings. Once he gathered everything he wanted to take with him Alistair moved to the door, stopping only briefly to say, "Goodbye."

The sound of the door slamming reverberated in Thayer's ears, washing over him like a powerful wave. He closed his eyes again, taking deep breaths where possible. The whole fight had happened so quickly—it almost felt like a dream.

Maybe it _was_. Maybe it was a really bad dream that he had yet to wake up from. As he worked on calming himself down and bringing his magic back under control, Thayer finally opened his eyes. He had to think sensibly. This wasn't a dream. He knew what dreams felt like, and this was far more painful.

He reached up to wipe away the tears that had run down his cheeks. Their salty taste lingered in his mouth from where they'd touched his lips. He could breathe better now, but that mattered little. The indignation he should have felt at the heartless and cruel condemnation had quickly surfaced and was bubbling its way out of him.

Maybe what he'd done wasn't right. He knew that. But sometimes hard decisions had to be made and Maker knew that Alistair wasn't going to be the one to do it. Thayer had been thrust into position of leadership that he'd never asked for. He'd been made a Grey Warden without the knowledge that his life would be drastically shortened. He'd given so much of himself to their cause…

He was going to prove Alistair wrong. What he was doing _wasn't_ the same as what they'd seen in their travels. He was trying to save lives. He was going to use this moment as a catalyst to help him finally achieve what he'd been trying to accomplish for ages now.

Somehow, some way, Thayer Amell was going to reverse the Calling.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Don't hit me! XD I promise, there's a good reason for things ending the way they did. The story will continue, but I wanted to split it up because what happens next sort of leaks into DA:2. Tell me what you think! ;) Thank you all again for being such great readers!**


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